The Grass is always Greener
by Iron Dragon Maiden
Summary: HP/Twilight. It was an offer Jasper couldn't refuse. Either wander around or help this other world fight off an evil wizard. Since he's there, why not ameliorate his vampire existence and befriend that nice runt Harry?
1. Badgering the Vampire

Sigh! I just know that someone is going to try to murder me. Particularly the Aiji fans... um, if I promise that I'll have the next chapter ready soon, will everyone put down the pitchforks? Please? I was gone all summer in Verona on a study abroad! And I found out that I'll probably graduate from Uni next year!

Anyway, this is a blasted bunny that refused to leave me alone! And it wasn't the playboy kind either. This one occured when I noticed that almost all of the Twilight/Harry Potter stories have Harry go to Forks. I wanted something new.

So... here it is. Here's to hoping it's not too much of a horrible chapter. I am not a Twilight expert, I'll warn you all of that right now. Harry Potter is more my niche. As such, the majority of the action will be Harry Potter related. Oh, and if I got anything wrong about Jasper's story or any dates wrong, sorry in advance. And if I made any miscalculations in the years, that's just me being math-deficient.

So, without further ado, here is my new fic.

* * *

Jasper Whitlock was not an easy man to rile up. Barring the not-so-proud-moments as a newborn and his high on bloodlust episodes (more like sagas, really), Jasper was a man that could keep a cool mind even in the most desperate of times.

Hence why to the people who knew him – almost all dead in the passage of time – Jasper's rage towards the woman before him would have been a sign that the proverbial dung was going to fall hard on anyone within a mile radius.

"Tell me," he growled, barely keeping himself from attacking the seemingly defenseless woman, "Tell me how can I become human again!"

Helga Hufflepuff, or the spirit of Helga Hufflepuff, bit back her not so nice retort. 'Why do I always have to be the problem solver? Really, is too much to ask for Rowena to develop some social grace or for Godric to develop tact? Spirits, Salazar should at the very least aid me, this mess is his descendant's fault!'

"Jasper, I cannot turn you back into a human completely. Such a feat is beyond even my power," Helga said with a misty voice she was certain Jasper wasn't buying. He growled at the thought of being deceived, his animosity spurred on by her immunity to his powers. "However, I can change some of your… typical vampiric characteristics shall we say."

Jasper frowned. "What kind of changes are we talking about here?" He may have looked like he was bartering, but at this point he was desperate for any kind of reprieve. All of his comrades and family were dead, have been for the past sixty years. His life had no meaning, nothing to live or fight for. He was nothing but a wandering shell of the proud master strategist of the Confederate Army. If anything could make him any less of a monster than he already was, he would side himself with the Devil if necessary.

"Well, first off, you won't sparkle like a firefly every time the Sun's rays hit you," Helga began, hoping to butter him up for his pricey end of the bargain. "Your bloodlust levels will be reduced by sixty percent – I can't lower them more than that, sorry. And I could make it so you can drink from humans without killing or turning them."

"What do you mean by that?" Jasper breathed. Just the idea of being able to bask in the Sun like a normal person had him excited to return to his hometown. But to feed without killing his fellow man? This goddess, demoness, whatever she was, could have whatever was left of his soul if she wished it. 'Just please, help me control the monster.'

"Meaning that you can drink a pint or so of blood from a human, move on, and said human will be just fine in an hour or so. Depending on how much blood you take, that is," Helga said. "Don't mistake this as a green light to drink all the blood a human has; you'll still be able to accidentally kill someone if you're not careful. The difference will be that your venom will not affect humans unless you actively wish for it do so. My advice would be to drink small portions of blood from multiple humans until you can control yourself." Catching Jasper's apprehension, she quickly assured him, "Blood won't be an addiction to you, it will merely be a necessity. Perfectly controllable if you have the will for it. Oh, and you'll be able eat and taste human food as well. It won't be as replenishing as blood, but it will help with the thirst. I'm afraid that I can't do anything for your eternal insomnia, though. Forgive me if it is an unsatisfactory deal."

'Unsatisfactory? Unsatisfactory!?' Jasper gaped at her. 'This is more than I could have hoped for!' "What's the catch?"

Helga stamped down on the guilt that she knew would ruin her own plan if she wasn't careful. "There will be a side-effect, nothing negative. You will keep your empathic powers, but you will also gain other powers as well."

Jasper narrowed his eyes, "Such as?"

Helga waved her hand to the tree near her, it turned into a deer. Jasper jumped in surprise, the deer turned back into a tree at Helga's will. "What was that!?"

"Magic, dear boy," her eyes twinkled.

"Magic?" 'Impossible.' Then Jasper mentally slapped himself, 'Just like vampires don't exist, right?'

"Yes, dear. In this world, the magic I use does not exist. Likewise, the vampires that exist in my world are not the same as the ones here." Helga smiled, "You will be able to produce the same magic, but not without a wand, at least at first. All will be clarified later." She waved off his questions.

Jasper scowled, 'This is too good to be true, there has got to be some sort of trick here.'

"I see you would like to get on with business then," Helga braced herself. "Very well, in return for these boons, I will require for you to help my world. My companions and I are already dead, you see, so all we can do is choose a champion to… fix things if you will." She glowered, "Even though a certain esteemed colleague of mine should be the one doing this as it is _his _descendant who's running amok, killing everything in sight…But I digress." She smiled, dangerously. Jasper, wise man that he was, took a step back.

"The basics are this: A very powerful, very evil wizard has been killing non-magical humans in a Hitlerian bid for blood purity – even though the little sod is a half-blood himself," she trailed off.

Jasper only humanly blinked. Helga continued, "Basically, Voldemort, for that is the name he goes by, has been killing innocents, not-so-innocents, and anyone that stood in his way. That leaves a rather large body count, as you can imagine."

"So you want me to kill this Voldemort?"

"Oh, dear me, no. That'd be too much to ask even for all of the boons I'll grant you. No, what I wish for you to do is to aide in his destruction. Godric has already chosen one of his illegitimate descendants to take Voldemort down."

"Just help? Forgive me for sounding ungrateful, Ma'am. However, it seems like a small price to pay for everything I'll gain," Jasper said, almost regretting immediately looking at the gift horse in the mouth. Nevertheless, no matter how deep in a depression he was in, the strategist in him didn't allow him to enter this deal half cocked.

Helga smiled, glad that he hadn't agreed right off the bat, 'I've chosen well. And Rowena said he wouldn't be as adequate that Evangeline lass, hah!' "Oh, trust me, Jasper, just helping will be a drawn out battle in itself. Especially since it will take a lot of proof for the rest of the Wizarding World to accept he's back after a ten year hiatus."

"Then if he hasn't attacked for ten years, why do I need to help defeat him? Isn't that too long a time to lay low?"

"He will be back, stronger than ever. Of course, the masses of any population would rather cut off their own noses to spite their own faces if it meant their tranquil lives won't be disturbed," she snorted. "From what I've seen of my world's future, H—err Voldemort's opponents will need all the help they can get."

Jasper narrowed his eyes at Helga's close slip, but kept silent and filled it away for later. Helga berated herself, than decided on a distraction, "Think very carefully about this, dear. You might find your existence as a vampire more tolerable, but what I request is for you to leave this world and come to mine. Some things may be similar, but I assure you that, apart from the magic, too many things are different in my world than in this one. On top of that, I am not too sure if I can return you to this world when you finish your end of the bargain."

"Ma'am, with all due respect, mind telling me what is there to miss from here?" Jasper gestured with frustration at his surroundings. "I'm a vampire, all of my friends and family are long dead and buried, there's no one and nothing for me to fight for, I wouldn't go near the Volturi unless if I knew they would kill me without using me… In short, I've got nothing to lose and everything to gain!"

It had… felt exhilarating… to finally put to words the quiet desperation he had lived with for too long.

Helga nodded to herself. As much as it made her feel like the greatest scum of the earth, Jasper's desperation and depression had been one of the key factors that made him the ideal champion.

'There's still too many unknowns, and she isn't telling me everything—'

As if she had read his mind, Helga said, "Forgive me if I don't seem too forthcoming, dear, but even the dead must follow some rules. I cannot tell you certain things that will happen in the future and the such. If anything, I am… twisting the rules a bit by influencing what could happen should you take me up on my offer."

"Fair enough," Jasper nodded. "But if your world and mine are so different, how am I supposed to be of any help if I can't even navigate myself properly over there?"

Helga's smile became brighter, "Not to worry! Should you decide to agree, I will provide you with personal instruction for a year. Oh, and when that pretty lass guesses that you're a vampire; don't worry, the Hogwarts staff is generally very discreet about these matters. Although, if I were you, I'd keep it a secret from the students and a certain Potions Master."

Jasper raised an eyebrow and received a "all in good time, lad."

He didn't ponder for very long. Sure, the redhead was asking him to leave, possibly forever, his world and fight a powerful evil in hers… but, it was something to do, something to fight for, a reason to exist. What did he have to tie him down in this world? 'Nothing,' Jasper answered himself. Peter and Charlotte had each other and their coven. As of this moment, he couldn't even properly feed from humans because of his so-called gift! He didn't belong anywhere, not even among his own kind.

He could stay in this realm and continue to wander around aimlessly. Or, he could take her offer, make his condition bearable, live among humans, leave this world, and fight an evil that will obviously try to destroy innocent lives.

'Not much of a choice.'

"I accept your terms."

A second later, there was no trace of the vampire and the spirit in that world.

NOSFERATU VAMPIRE DAMPHIR DRACULA

And that was how Jasper had gotten himself into his current situation. To say that he was pissed at Helga would have been the equivalent of saying the Volturi were cruel. Oh, she had been honest with him. Had given him every warning of the dangers and instructed him, in an abandoned cottage somewhere in Wales, of her world. Of course, it was sometimes hard to take her seriously in badger form, but that was her only way of communicating with someone for hours.

No, that wasn't what he was angry about. He didn't mind being cooped up in a cottage for almost a year and learning about the world. He didn't mind the occasional homeless person Helga made him test his new bloodlust control. If anything, he was grateful for that kind of training as he could now feed without killing. Even better, he didn't have to worry about the suffocating emotions bludgeoning his skull. It was rather hard for the humans to feel fear while asleep in a warm shelter.

Heartless but efficient. That suited Jasper fine. He had seen enough in his life to know that neither vampires nor humans were saints. Both were just as bad as the other; they just expressed that differently.

Hell, he didn't even mind when scatter-brained but kind Professor Elana Vector had given him an eccentric introduction of the wizarding world and asked him awkward questions of his vampirism. No.

What made him want to murder that red-haired she-devil was one crucial, vital, essential detail: he was now eleven years old!!!

Jasper growled again as he effortlessly pushed his trolley through the crowded train station. Just remembering that… that… that woman's explanation made him want to bite someone.

"Of course you have to be eleven years old, dear! We can't have anyone finding out that you are not from this world. Meaning that you have got to be as inconspicuous as possible. Yes, an orphan child that was recently turned into vampire might raise some questions, but stranger things have happened! Besides, the Professors will keep that itty bitty piece of information to themselves; I'll make sure of it!"

So, there he was. Eleven years old, still a vampire (though improved from his previous condition), and posing as an orphan muggleborn.

To make the situation worse, Helga had gone back to… the Underworld, Hell, wherever her spirit belonged to. Apparently, the gods had only allowed her to choose a champion, bring him here, and teach him the basics for a year. If asked for his personal opinion, Jasper would say that Hell missed its favorite minion.

'Where's platform ten?' Jasper's frustration mounted up as he maneuvered himself in unfamiliar but well-learned territory. Thankfully, Professor Vector had been thoughtful enough – or competent enough, as Jasper called it – to inform him how to get to the platform in the first place.

When another trolley bumped into his, Jasper almost broke the handles of his in order to reign in his rage. He had been absolutely miserable as a child. Partly because he had been the runt of the group.

'Doesn't that bitch realize how long it took me to grow to six feet?!'

Frustration, anger, impatience, irritation, and a full gamut of emotions were being poured down his throat. When his trolley took another hit…

'That is IT'

Jasper slammed his trolley back into the person who first slammed his. The rather overweight man lost control of his own trolley and crashed it into the column next to him.

'Much better,' Jasper thought. He stamped down on his emotions and tried to concentrate on finding the gods-be-damned platform.

"Excuse me," his fine-tuned ears heard an anxious but determined voice. "But do you know where Platform 9 ¾ is at?"

Curious, Jasper turned and saw a child of about his age with short black hair and round glasses. The child, dressed in too big clothes, was in front of a bobby and trying to ascertain where the blasted magical platform was at.

"9 ¾? There is no such thing! There is either platform number ten or platform number nine." The bobby replied, humoring the kid. Jasper felt no malicious intent from the man, only sympathy. Obviously the man thought the child was the victim of a practical joke.

"Oh."

"Whoever told you that is not someone whose word you can take seriously. Now, be a good lad, and run back to your parents."

Jasper felt a pang coming from the kid at the word "parent." Nodding, the child left the bobby and continued to look for the ever elusive platform. No parent or guardian in sight. 'Orphan, then,' Jasper surprisingly felt sympathy for the kid that screamed of anxiety with every step he/she took.

The emotions the child felt were… odd. He, or she, Jasper wasn't too sure with the baggy clothes, neutral scent (hyacinths and spices, oddly enough), and the "modern" short hair-cuts girls in this world used. Anyway, the child was scared… but it wasn't a fear stemmed from being alone in a crowded place with no familiar face in sight. He, or she, seemed more scared of missing the train and missing going to Hogwarts. Scared of being… left behind.

A child wasn't supposed to feel like that. As if some unknown world would be their only salvation; better than what they currently have.

'Duh,' Jasper mentally tested the new idiom, 'The kid's an orphan. Of course Hogwarts, or anywhere else, would be better than an orphanage.'

He certainly recognized the fear of going back. Wherever the kid had come from, he or she did not want to step foot back there; even if it meant staying at the train station for the whole day.

He felt for the kid, he really did. The incompetent imbecile that had been responsible for the kid hadn't bothered to tell him/her where the platform was located. How was the kid supposed to begin his/her new life if he/she didn't know where to go?

Jasper, ever the gentleman and sucker for runts (though he will never admit to it), went up to the kid and said, "Hogwarts too?"

The kid jumped, surprised, and turned around with a speed that almost rivaled a vampire. Looking at him as if he were Jesus himself, the child breathed, "Yes! Are you also…"

Jasper nodded, smiling when the kid's anxiety all but disappeared. "Yes. Come on, I'll take you there."

The kid gave him a small smile, the oval face lighting up with relief and happiness despite the diminutive facial expression. "Thank you so much. I… um, I'm Harry Potter, nice to meet you." He held his hand out for Jasper to shake.

Jasper hesitated for a second, then took the hand and shook it firmly by human children standards. For a runt, Harry had a pretty strong grip. "Jasper Whitlock, the pleasure's all mine."

"American?" Harry blurted out, then frowned to himself, "Sorry, didn't mean to pry."

"Not at all," Jasper smiled. The kid was only mildly curious, both about his cold hand and his ethnicity. But Jasper could feel that the kid would keep his nose out of his business if Jasper didn't want to divulge. "I was born and mostly raised in Texas. I stayed here alone after my parents died." At least, that was his cover story. Though, if he wanted it to get around, he should probably talk about it close to a gossip monger.

Harry winced. "Mine died when I was one," he murmured almost inaudibly.

"Ah." And there was silence, as clearly neither boy wanted to talk of the matter.

Harry felt awkward just following the, so far, nice boy that was helping him. He was unused to that, being helped by someone his age, or almost any age for that matter. Not usually one for idle chit-chat, as he was invisible one, Harry tried to talk about the one thing he knew they both had in common: Magic.

"So, have you known about your magic long?" Harry winced at how lame he sounded. 'Great, the first person my age that could possibly be a friend, and I'm driving him away!'

Jasper felt Harry's turbulent emotions and decided to cut the kid a break. He would have to associate with humans in the boarding school. Why not show some affability to the decent ones like Harry?

"Actually, I only learned about it recently," Jasper answered honestly. It was the truth, with some parts omitted. The best lie is the one closest to the truth.

Of course, a certain she-devil had used it as an excuse not to teach Jasper anything of the magical world. "It would make your story as a muggleborn all the more credible!" she had said.

"Me too," Harry said, still nervous and unsure of how to talk to someone his own age who didn't ignore him or desired to beat him up.

Jasper felt that Harry wanted to continue conversing but was cautious as to how to proceed. He took the reigns, "Which House do you think you'll get into?" Jasper sent a small wave of calming emotions to the boy, hoping to relax those tense shoulders.

"I wouldn't mind going to Gryffindor, since my parents were there you see, but I don't think I'll be accepted there," Harry said. He felt comfortable around Jasper, despite his own uncertainty and insecurities. The blond might be a stranger; but Hagrid had also been a stranger and the giant man had all but saved him from his own Hell.

"Why not?"

"I'm not brave enough," Harry was sure of that. He was queasy enough just thinking of going to Hogwarts, even though he wanted to go there with a passion he didn't know he had. Also, he had never really stood up to the Dursleys. He just took their mistreatment and moved on. Or sometimes he would trip Dudley up, but only when he was certain the lard couldn't retaliate or that Harry could escape.

Jasper raised an eye-brow but didn't pry. "So what's your second choice?"

"I'm not the book-lover type, so Ravenclaw's out. I mean, I like a good book as much as anyone, but not that much," Harry said. "That only leaves Hufflepuff or…Slytherin," he finished, shame-faced.

"What's wrong with Slytherin?" Jasper had, luckily enough, gotten a rational and tolerant Professor to teach him about the Houses. Out of all of them, he thought that Slytherin suited him the best. Of course, she had also touched upon the House prejudices. Jasper hoped that Harry didn't have those. It'd be a shame to lose the boy as a possible ally.

"Hagrid…he's the one who gave me my letter and he's the Grounds Keeper… he said that no witch or wizard who went to Slytherin didn't turn evil," Harry whispered. They were in front of platform ten.

Feeling safe enough in Jasper's presence, Harry told Jasper about his encounter with the blond boy in Madame Malkin's shop. 'No wonder he bought that crap from the irresponsible moron,' Japer thought to himself.

"There's nothing wrong with being cunning and ambitious, Harry. It's what you do with those traits that make them good or evil," Jasper told him in the hopes to undo the damage Hagrid had inadvertently done to the impressionable boy.

"Yeah, I…guess," Harry was still unsure but gave Jasper the benefit of the doubt.

"Who knows, if you end up in Slytherin, we might be housemates," Jasper grinned at him. His grin widened as Harry returned his smile with only a touch of hesitancy.

"Last call for the 9:40 train to Newcastle upon Tyne. I repeat. Last call for the 9:40 train to Newcastle upon Tyne." The robotic female voice from the speakers brought the boys back to the task on hand. Get to the annoying platform that did a good deed for once in its existence by bringing the boys together.

"See platform ten," Jasper gestured to Harry. Harry nodded. "Just walk directly to the column and you'll enter the platform." Jasper paused, "At least, that's what Professor Vector told me. According to her, the entrance is hidden by illusion charms and… mug- mundane..."

"Muggle?" Harry coaxed, halfway prepared to duck a blow. Instead he received a nod, "Yeah, muggle-repelling charms, I think was the term."

"So we just run towards the wall?" Harry deadpanned, disbelieving. As nice and helpful as Jasper was, Harry never quite got rid of his suspicious streak, particularly towards those that showed him kindness without obvious motive. Besides, common sense dictated that anyone that would run into a wall will only get hurt by their own stupidity. Harry valued his common sense. It was a trait that didn't flourish among his relatives; therefore it must be a positive trait.

'His self-preservation instincts are still sharp, that's good.' Jasper could smell with his enhanced sense of smell the crowds of people on the other side of the wall. Satisfied to confirm the correct location, Jasper decided to convince his justifiably wary companion.

"How about I go first?" Jasper said, preparing his trolley for a run. "If I am not flattened like a pancake, it's most definitely platform 9 ¾."

Harry didn't even get a chance to respond. Jasper gave a push to his cart and softly trotted through the wall. Harry, thankfully, didn't blink and had watched Jasper disappear through the wall.

"All clear," Jasper's head and a bit of his torso re-appeared in Harry's line of vision. Harry yelped in surprise but didn't do much else other than gape.

"Waiting for an invitation?" Jasper's good-natured teasing shook him out of his stupor. Emboldened, Harry mock glared at him and said, "I'm coming. Just move out of the way, I don't want to accidentally hit you."

Jasper complied. Harry took a deep breath, steeled himself, and ran towards the column. Just as he was approaching the white wall, he shut his eyes, waiting for the…

Actually, there was no pain.

"You can open your eyes now. No evil wall to flatten unsuspecting students in sight."

MAGUS WIZARD WITCH WARLOCK MAGE SORCERESS

Harry and Jasper had, upon perusing at the rather over-crowded and compact platform, wisely decided to stick close together and share a compartment.

Jasper, despite his charisma, had always been a private man by nature. His childhood as an old-money southern gentleman and as one of the physically weaker boys had nurtured that nature. Harry was likewise private, though for different reasons other than the last one. Both boys found that they worked well together and mutually liked the other's personality. Their present accommodations, to say the least, suited them perfectly.

"Anything from the trolley, dears?" a plump witch politely opened the door to the boys' compartment.

Jasper mentally cursed his lack of funds. Of course, dear sweet Helga had forgotten one very important thing: money. Granted, Jasper himself had forgotten about that important detail…but he was an ex-rich gentleman! Even after he had been turned into a bleeding vampire he had never needed money. Stupid spirit should have known better!!!

Harry's mouth watered. He hadn't eaten a thing all day! He'd bet that any of those candies were better than the travesty of cakes Petunia Dursley baked. Or, to reiterate, better than any cake Harry baked and replaced the toxic rocks his aunt made.

Glancing at his companion, he noted the hungry but controlled mien on the blond's face. 'Well, there's a lot of wizarding candy to try. But I don't think I can eat them all by myself, no matter how long the trip.'

As much as his unfortunate dependency on his neglectful relatives had made Harry a faithful disciple to the God of money saving, he reckoned this would be a good investment.

Fingering his full pouch – it made him very elated to not only have money of his own, but to have a pouch full of it brought him to near ecstasy – Harry stood up and went to the witch. "I'll have five of everything, please," he said with a boyish smile.

Jasper raised an eyebrow at the excessive expenditure and couldn't help but remark, "That hungry?"

"Eight-hour trip, Jasper," Harry said. "I haven't had any breakfast yet. And I'm not willing to starve until we get to Hogwarts."

Jasper's stomach grumbled, something it hadn't done for the past century. Harry pretended not to hear it, "Although, you do have a point, this is a bit too much for one person."

'His delivery needs a bit of work,' Jasper smiled at the endearing boy. Jasper had fed last night, so there was no danger. However, eight sedentary hours with no food would surely make him thirst for at the very least a small pint of blood.

"Well, if you insist," Jasper faked a long-suffering sigh, "I shall sacrifice my stomach to the all too-sugared contraptions you just bought."

"My, my, what an unpleasant task," Harry said with a dry smile, "Regardless, I'm afraid we don't have a choice in the matter, oh brave sir."

"Indeed, valiant soul, we shall overcome this obstacle and conquer our fears," Jasper kept his poker face. Harry dissolved to laughter before his friend finished the sentenced. Jasper cracked a smile at the admittedly stupid, but still amusing conversation.

It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

* * *

Like it? Hate it? Should I just leave it as a one shot?

That being said, was it too fast paced? Too cutesy?

Let me know what you lot think.

PS As Harry is eleven years old, and therefore too young to date, there won't be any pairings for him until he is at least fourteen, thirteen minimum. The same will apply to Jasper, even though he is only eleven in body, still. Oh, and I don't think that Harry isn't brave, that is just his own personal opinion. If anyone has re-read the first book, when Harry is being introduced to Diagon Alley, he feels queasy and scared and is certain that he will go to Hufflepuff (or what he has heard is the "lame House" from Draco).


	2. Hogwarts and Friends

Hello, All! I've got to admit, when I published this, I didn't expect much of a reaction. Thank you all for your kind words and advice. Here's to hoping chapter two won't disappoint. I want to give Naoi a thanks for pointing out my Jasper's characterization problems. As I said, I'm more of a Harry Potter fan, so the Twilight stuff is not so prominent and I might make mistakes, so if there are any, I apologize. I tried to make Jasper more Jasper-ish, so let me know what you all think.

On with the story!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Within all sorts of social groups, there are all kinds of silent rules and conducts that must be abided. Unfortunately for Jasper, despite his rather long and adventurous life, he never once had civilly interacted with an orphan child to his knowledge.

How should he broach a conversation with Harry? He didn't think that talking of Harry's home life would be polite. That was probably why Harry wasn't inquiring about Jasper's. Or perhaps he didn't know how to interact with children his age? Jasper did detect timidity, surprise, and gratitude from him. 'Duh, he's a runt. He must have been the orphanage punching bag. He's most likely half expecting me to bully him or something.'

Jasper felt a twinge of sadness at that. Even though he himself had been singled out by the other boys as a child, he always had his family to protect and comfort him. Considering the circumstances of their meeting, Harry possibly didn't have any adults to count on. 'That explains why he's so tense, despite his friendly intentions. Well, that makes two of us, kid.'

Uncomfortable, Jasper searched for a topic to dispel the awkward silence. There was only so much time that eating snacks could fill. They couldn't talk about magic, since obviously Jasper himself probably knew more than him about it. After all, only an idiot would display valuable personal belongings in an orphanage where other kids can steal them.

"So, uh, d'you, um," Harry started then shut his mouth, blushing.

"Just say it," Jasper gave up. He hated walking on egg-shells and preferred blunt honesty rather than superficial politeness. "Whatever you want to know can't make things any more awkward."

"I was going to ask if you knew anything about the wizarding world in general," Harry said, gaining courage from Jasper's outburst. Due to his oh-so-upstanding aunt and uncle, Harry had the preconceived notion that small talk and other formalities were based on white-lies to illustrate a false sense of normalcy and courtesy. "I was thinking that would be a less intrusive subject than asking any personal questions."

"I wasn't stuck in an orphanage like you were, if that's what you want to know," Jasper said. He was glad when he felt Harry relax in his presence.

"Orphanage?" Harry asked. Jasper didn't need his empathy to feel the bitter hilarity in Harry's voice. Rather, it was emphasized to an almost unbearable pressure. "You thought I came from an orphanage."

"It doesn't take a genius to realize your clothes are second hand and from someone who is not even remotely close to your measurements," Jasper analyzed. "Your glasses are held together by tape; a crude, relatively effective way to fix them without buying a new set. Your hands are calloused, scarred, and have old burn marks; clearly indicating that you're used to manual labor. You're probably used to cooking everyday. Maybe even weeding a garden if those indentations in the middle of your hands are any indication. Perhaps this is the spoilt brat in me talking, but no normal kid with loving parents would have chores that is too backbreaking or puts the kid near something dangerous like a stove." Jasper felt a bit sick as he recalled many of his black female slaves, the ones that worked inside the house instead of the plantations, possessing hands similar to Harry's.

"You… assumed I came from an orphanage and got all that information just by looking at my clothes, glasses, and hands?" Harry gaped like a fish out of water. 'What is this bloke, a super detective?'

"Actually, I suspected it the second I realized you were alone," Jasper said. "If you were older, say fifteen or sixteen, I could have just written you off as someone whose parents were too busy to see you off or something." The words 'what kind of parents would leave their eleven year old in a crowded train station to find an unknown platform by himself" went unvoiced.

Harry softly chuckled, then laughed, soon he was holding his stomach and beating the armrest. The bitter resentment in his voice could not be masked, although for some odd reason, Jasper detected a hint of irony in his emotions. It was as though Jasper had cracked a stone dam that held back a waterfall's worth of emotions. The emotions started at a slow current, and then they became faster, and faster…

"Heh, for all of their obsession about being _normal_," Harry spat out the word venomously. "It turns out that I could pass of as an orphanage brat to a stranger. Maybe I would have been better off in an orphanage after all. Couldn't have been any worse than at the Dursleys', at least there I wouldn't have been as singled out as I was by them."

Harry, at that moment, wasn't aware of his silent companion. He was too lost in his memories and emotions to even notice how Jasper's face scrunched half in concern, half in a grimace. Ever since he entered primary school, he knew that the way his relatives treated him was wrong. None of the other children at school had to clean their entire houses from top to bottom daily. None of them had to cook for their families every day, even if they burned themselves in the process. None of them had to trim their house's garden to a perfection only a professional could accomplish. None of them had to sleep in a spider infested cupboard. None of the children's parents abstained from touching them with affection, they never avoided their children's touch like the plague. None of them went without dinner if they made the slightest mistake, if anything, that punishment was reserved for when the children acted out in the way Dudley always did.

When Harry had learned of this sad fact, a burning pit of umbrage towards his relatives infested within him. He never did anything about it, always kept his outrage and resentment under lock and key. He wasn't stupid, he knew that if he acted out the Dursleys would finally use that as the excuse to execute physical violence upon him. After all, Dudley was the only one in the household that could beat him up without alerting the authorities of anything amiss.

So Harry stopped caring. At first he hoped for a nice family or his real parents to take him away from there, but it was only a wistful dream he only thought about every once in a while. Hope for the impossible and you are bound to be sorely disappointed. Instead, the Dursleys gained Harry's deepest disdain. As much as he wished ill upon his relatives, he knew that it was another wasted hope. He just wanted to survive.

But, the second Hagrid told him the truth, Harry felt the first cracks in his hard-earned aloofness.

Taking a deep breath, all the while gripping the armrest, Harry forced himself to calm down as he had other times his anger came to the surface. It had been easy to stay calm as a lake, the indifference of others had made it easy for Harry to ignore his less than commendable circumstances. However, when Jasper pointed out his obvious mistreatment, well, his resentment had decided that Harry had more than earned the explosive inner rage.

Jasper had, at first, stopped himself from calming the boy down. Harry obviously had a lot of anger towards these Dursleys, whoever they were, that he bottled up inside himself. Feeling the wood of his armrest crack, Jasper took out his wand and whispered the only spell he knew, "_Reparo_." Even now, he wasn't used to his strength, as he had previously used it to tear other vampires apart under Maria's service. Helga had caved in after the fourth broken wall and taught him the spell to repair things. When Harry's emotions reached a rising crescendo, Jasper changed his mind.

'On second thought, maybe this isn't the right place for him to let loose,' and that thought had nothing to do with the fact that he was feeling overwhelmed and thirsty due to the borderline hatred and strong magical power emanating from the small boy. It wasn't so much Harry's blood that sang to him, rather his emotions heightened his appealing scent. Harry's emotions beckoned him like a siren's song the angrier he got. It almost felt as though he was in the presence of another predator, one that he could eat before the boy attacked. 'No, he's just a kid, just a kid with a lot of baggage and powerful magic, that's all. See, he's not even directing his magic at you, just a kid, just a kid…'

Sending the strongest tidal wave of calm he could bring himself to conjure, Jasper also frantically searched for a Blood Pop he knew Helga had put in his pockets. While his control over his bloodlust had ameliorated by leaps and bounds, Jasper was not willing to risk anything so soon in the game without Helga to bust him out of trouble.

Harry felt light, almost as though he was floating above the clouds, bodiless. He had never felt so… calm? No that's not right, the word would be…relaxed? Yes, that was the word. "Woah," Harry breathed sluggishly.

Jasper held his breath, Harry's emotions and, by proxy, scent were no longer intense, however his control had been compromised. He didn't trust himself to get out of the compartment, his feet might unconsciously lead him to the highest concentration of humans in the train and then…

"Was that you?" Harry lazily tilted his chin towards Jasper's wand. "Thanks. Sorry if I did anything." After all, it wouldn't be the first time that something weird happened when Harry got mad.

Jasper wanted to get mad at Harry for snapping his hard earned self-control in one second. He wanted to glare bloody murder at the kid for unknowingly endangering himself and Jasper. But he couldn't. Not when Harry was gazing at him with exposed eyes that shined with remorse and gratitude.

"Yeah," Jasper chocked out, still holding his breath even as he shoved a Blood Pop in his mouth. "I don't think I'm the right person for you to have a break down in front of." 'Very eloquent Jasper, subtle too.'

Harry wasn't so high that he didn't notice the painful grimace on Jasper's face or the tight manner that he held his body. "Damn," Harry breathed. "Did my magic hurt you? 'm sorry, I know it's not good enough to just apologize, but I…" Harry hesitated, then stood up, "I'll just leave you alone," he said with his head bowed in shame and sadness.

Now Jasper felt like a heel. 'It's not his fault that you've got less self-control than a baby. Lord knows the kid has had a hard enough life as is, last thing he needs is some crotchety old vampire in a kid's body giving him grief for something he had no control over.'

"Wait," he encircled Harry's bony wrist with his cold hand. 'What are you doing?!' his common sense shrieked at him. It was the perfect opportunity to calm down. Harry just had to step outside and Jasper would regain control of himself alone in the compartment without a possible victim in front of him.

But he wasn't being rational at the moment. To normal people, Harry might be a quiet and self-effacing boy, but his emotions were of such a high level of intensity that Jasper couldn't helped but allow himself to drift with the waves. Before, when Harry had been relaxed, Jasper had basked in the tranquility of the moment, only mildly bothered by the annoying buzzing of awkwardness. When Harry's anger and outrage mounted to an almost eruption, Jasper felt his own feral wrath mount to meet with Harry's.

And now, now that Harry was all but broadcasting his hope… hope that he hadn't screwed up and lost a friend. There was also sadness and an unhealthy dose of self-hate. Jasper's gut told him that the self-blame was ingrained, maybe he had been told all his life that bad things happened because of him. It certainly sounded that way from what he said of his home life.

'Yet another reason why he shouldn't be around you,' Jasper's voice of reason pointed out. 'This kid needs real friends, human friends, that'll look out for him and take care of him.'

'Right, and every eleven or twelve year old has the maturity or patience to do that,' his more emotional side retorted. 'The older kids never notice what happens to the youngsters and he most likely won't trust the adults.'

Jasper warred with himself. As much as he knew that he should let go, the lonely, depressed part of him thrived on the human contact. It'd been too long since he'd properly touched someone without trying to kill, maim, or feed. Helga was no help there as a spirit or badger and her company, while friendly and amusing, was more out of obligation to her champion and temporary at that. Feeling Harry, who actually appreciated what little he saw of his company, thawed at Jasper's reasonable resistance.

'I guess it's true then,' Jasper absently rubbed his thumb on Harry's wrist comfortingly. 'No matter how old you are, you can never beat your own solitude.'

Jasper felt Harry softly grip his own wrist experimentally, testing out the boundaries. His tentative and awed emotions knocked the thirst out of Jasper. Or perhaps it was the highly concentrated Blood Pop finally taking effect. Or maybe it was a combination of the two. Regardless, Jasper didn't feel as thirsty as he did and he was going to take advantage of that fact.

"C-come on," Jasper forced himself to say. "Sit down. It's my own fault for being so damned blunt in the first place." Grabbing the first candy he could find, Jasper began to stuff himself. Helga made food was about half as filling as blood, if he ate twice as much as his thirst demanded, he should be fine. Thank goodness Harry was a generous kid.

"No," Harry shook his head. As much as he was glad for Jasper's forgiveness, he couldn't forgive his own unintended outburst. "If I was willing to ask a question of that nature in the first place, then I should have been ready to answer the same."

"Maybe," Jasper said. "But I did point out some distressing facts." Good, the bloodlust was lessening. Now to get rid of the guilt. Whether his own or Harry's, he wasn't sure.

"I guess," Harry said in a monotone voice. "But it didn't make them any less true. I suppose my… anger towards the Dursleys had to come out sooner or later."

"Relatives?" Jasper blurted. Then he wanted to slap himself, 'Open mouth and insert the whole leg why don't you?'

"Unfortunately," Harry continued without an emotional outburst. He was only resigned this time. "When my parents died, I was left at the Dursleys' doorstep. It's not as bad as you're thinking, it's just pent up anger. I mean, yes, they claimed that I was nothing more than a freeloader, like my supposed drunk parents, and that I had to repay them for letting me live with them. But it's not like they ever hit me, besides Dudley, but he's my age and someone has to be the neighborhood bully."

Jasper felt the resigned loneliness that Harry felt as though it were his own. Instead of triggering the bloodlust, it dampened it. His feral side was quiet, unobtrusive in this hidden moment of vulnerability. All that Jasper could do at the moment was to send subtle waves of comfort and grounding Harry by softly squeezing his wrist.

Harry squeezed back, grateful and all of the sudden bashful. "Turns out that they hate me because I have magic, just like they hated my parents for being magical. Although, it sounded like aunt Petunia was jealous of mum because she had magic and their parents' approval," Harry finished by grinning cheekily, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

"Sometimes, it's easier to hate than to hope for something that you won't get," Jasper said. He should know, he had despised Maria and her two partners with every fiber of his being. It made it easier to forget his desire to go home to his family, made it easier to avoid the loss of hope by not thinking optimistically.

"Yeah," Harry whispered. "That's why I tried to stop myself from dreaming of my parents or someone who cared to take me away from the Dursleys. After a while, the disappointment can get to a person. So instead I started hoping that something horrible would happen to the Dursleys so I could be sent elsewhere."

"That's a lot of personal information you're telling me, Harry," Jasper said. "Why are you trusting me? It's not as though you are a typical naïve little kid who would blurt your dirty secrets to the world." It was inconceivable. Jasper wouldn't trust himself if he was in Harry's position. Hell, he didn't trust himself, period. So why did Harry trust him with such sensitive information? Did he expect Jasper to do the same? No, there was nothing remotely suggesting it in his emotions, emotions don't lie. Then why?

"Because you actually bothered to point out the obvious difference between me and other kids?" Harry asked, unsure himself. "I don't know, just, I trust you, I don't know why… makes me wonder if you bewitched me or something," he laughed awkwardly.

"I take it back," Jasper shook his head. "Your instincts must be worse than a slug's if you trust a guy like me."

"You make it sound as though you are a bad person," Harry said. "You haven't slugged me one for hurting you when I got angry. That's more than can be said about the people of Privet Drive."

'Show some kindness to someone who has never known it and they shall do anything your heart desires.' Jasper didn't remember who said that or in what circumstances, but the phrase described Harry perfectly. It even described Jasper when Helga found him.

"You didn't hurt me," Jasper squeezed Harry's wrist lightly, while carefully keeping in mind how fragile the limb was, when he opened his mouth to protest. "You only cracked the armrest. Trust me, I was not, in any way, harmed."

"Then why did you seem to be in pain," Harry softly demanded. "I may not know you well, but you don't seem the type to fake pain."

Jasper hesitated. Now he had gone and cornered himself and Harry's honest concern would not let him get away with a flimsy excuse. Then an idea hit him. 'Of course, what better way to hide a secret than by making it look like you're hiding one of a lesser magnitude.' It was a shame that he had to lose his empathy as a surprise tactic but better that than his vampirism. According to Helga, empathy might be uncommon but it wasn't something that others could discriminate him with. Although, controlling other people's emotions was unheard of…

"It's nothing that you could've helped," Jasper said. "It's not like you can turn your emotions off."

Harry cocked his head to the side like a puppy. He was curious but Jasper sensed him stomping down on it, allowing Jasper the choice to divulge his secret. That made Jasper like him all the more.

"I'm an empath. Meaning, I can feel everyone's emotions like a lie detector," Jasper said. "What they say about the quiet ones is true. Harry, your emotions are some of the most potent ones I've ever felt."

"So when I got angry…" Harry swallowed. "I'm so sorry Jasper."

"Don't be," Jasper shrugged. "Like I said, it's not like you can turn off your emotions."

"Still," Harry bit his lip. "Right now, am I…"

"It's fine," Jasper waved his concern off. "Though I could do without the guilt. It's not your fault."

Harry blinked at that and looked at Jasper as though he had never seen anything quite like him. Jasper shifted, then noticed that he was still holding Harry's wrist. In another time, he would have dropped the wrist like a hot coal. But the kid already had enough issues with touch for Jasper to add to them. Besides, he liked it. After almost a century of abstaining from casual touch, Harry's skin felt warm and welcoming in his hand. Everything from the bony wrist bone jutting out to the almost invisible burn mark between the index and the middle fingers welcomed Jasper like the safety of his mother's hugs.

Harry had every reason to lash out, to wallow in a pit of despair, yet he didn't allow himself to bemoan his fate incessantly. Underneath the astonishment, the guilt, and the budding affection was an undercurrent of steely determination. A determination to succeed, to prove himself, to prove others wrong. Should Jasper reject him, Harry might be upset but he'd pick himself up and move on.

Harry had decided long ago that he wasn't going to let the world win by staying down when he was pushed. And that was just the type of person Jasper admired.

"So," Harry started. This time, he was back to the placid stoicism he was renowned for back in Surrey. His stone dam was repaired, for the moment. "Are you living on a trust fund or something?"

Jasper blinked, at both the question and Harry's sudden serenity. 'He has got to have one of the most mercurial moods I've ever seen.' "I do, in a fashion," Jasper paused. "How did you know?"

"I don't know why," Harry shrugged. "It might just be your posture or just your presence or the way you speak or something, but there's something about you that screams filthy rich."

Jasper opened his mouth, then closed it as he heard two pairs of footsteps heading in their compartment's direction. One of them was determined to achieve a goal and had a domineering quality to them. The other was desperate and seemed to want the earth to swallow them up. "Jasper?" and of course Harry was anxious that he had made Jasper uncomfortable.

"Two people are coming," Jasper said.

Harry blinked, and then asked, "Empathy?"

"Yes."

The compartment door was opened without so much as a by your leave, "Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost his." The bossy bushy-haired brunette pointed to the chubby mousy boy behind her.

Harry shook his head, "No, sorry, it's just been the two of us since we got on the train."

The girl frowned, frustrated at her lack of progress, "It's alright. If you see one, be sure to let us know, we'll be combing the train for it."

"Awfully demanding for someone so rude," Jasper said.

"Excuse me?" the girl scowled.

"Generally, it's considered polite to knock first before opening a door, especially if you want a favor from the party behind it."

The girl blushed at the reprimand but opened her mouth to retort. Harry beat her to it, "So it's just a toad that you're looking for, right? Why don't you ask the older years for some help, maybe they can do something about it."

The girl started mumbling to herself, "Well, I have heard of a spell that can summon things, so maybe…" she trailed of then brightened up, "Of course! Now why didn't I think of that? It would have saved us all this time." She smiled at Harry and extended her hand, "Hermione Granger, it's a pleasure."

Harry shook it with his unoccupied one, "Harry Potter, likewise."

"Really?" she peered at him with interest, particularly where his scar was covered up by black hair. "You're Harry Potter?"

"Um, yes, I am," Harry shifted, gripping Jasper's wrist a bit.

"I've read all about you of course – I got a few extra books for background reading and you're in _Modern Magical History_ and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_."

"I am?" Harry tried to make himself seem smaller.

"You don't know? If I were in your position I would read all that I could." Hermione said. "I'm the first witch in my family so I've been doing a lot of reading, I've been trying to catch up—"

"Don't you two have a toad to find?" Jasper interrupted. Harry's uneasiness was making him on edge. It didn't take long for Jasper to figure out that Harry was uncomfortable in the proverbial limelight. "For all that we know, one of the cats is having him for lunch even as we speak."

Neville let out a squeak and Hermione glared at Jasper, "No need to be so graphic." With a huff, she closed the compartment door, no doubt leaving to find an older year to perform the summoning charm.

"Thanks," Harry said. "Although, there was no need to be so rude the first time."

"I wouldn't have been if she actually displayed some manners by knocking first and asking politely if we had seen Neville's toad," Jasper said.

Harry wanted to argue some more, but Jasper did have a point, Hermione was rude first. Harry just didn't notice it since he was rarely granted that simple courtesy.

"So, what was that about?"

"Hmm?"

"She immediately became interested in you when she learned your name, why?"

Harry sighed, "I don't really know the details myself, Hagrid wasn't too forthcoming on that. He just said that my parents were killed by this evil dark wizard and that for some odd reason he wasn't able to kill me and I got rid of him. Mind you, this all happened when I was a baby, barely a year old, so for all I know, mum or dad did something to save me and I got the glory since I'm actually alive."

"She was looking at you forehead specifically," Jasper mused.

Harry shoved his bangs upwards. Above his right eyebrow was a thin, red lightning-bolt shaped scar. It looked clean to Jasper, like someone had taken a knife and designed the scar. It looked more like a tattoo than a scar. Jasper wouldn't have known it was an old one since it showed no signs of fading. "May I?" Jasper held his hand out. Harry nodded.

Jasper lightly traced his index finger on the scar. The friction between the blemished skin and the unharmed one was subtle, very different from any other scar Jasper had ever felt or seen. Strangely enough, despite its peculiarities, the scar moved with the skin like a normal scar. It was something between an anomaly and the typical.

He retracted his hand and freed his other one from Harry's hand to reach for his duffel bag. Taking aside a marked book called _Wizarding Britain for Muggleborns_ by Isaac Peterson, he searched for a tome in his duffel. Harry perked up as he noticed some books he had been interested in buying in the bag (such as _Curses and Counter-Curses _by Professor Vindictus Viridian).

Jasper pulled out his own copy of _Modern Magical History_ and started searching through the index. "You might have an easier time searching for Voldemort instead of my name," Harry said as he sat down next to Jasper in order to share the book. "Chances are, I'm only briefly mentioned as a surviving victim."

"Actually, you are here," Jasper pointed at the book. "But I don't see Voldemort… Never mind, he's probably at _A Dark Lord Rises_."

"The 30's?" Harry asked. "I don't think so, I think it's at _You-Know-Who and his Reign of Terror_."

"You-Know-Who?" Jasper mumbled. "Do the writers know how unprofessional this makes the book sound?"

"I wouldn't know about that," Harry said. "But I know that I all but had to cajole it out of Hagrid just to get his name. From what he said, Voldemort was so terrifying that other wizards were too scared to say his name. Something about calling his attention to them…"

"Yeah, but this is after he's been defeated," Jasper shook his head. "Let's just read and see what all the hoo-ha's about."

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

By the time Jasper and Harry finished reading about Voldemort and Harry's brief but influential role in his demise, the Hogwarts Express covered three-quarters of the distance to their destination.

"This is…" Harry breathed.

"Utter and complete horseshit?" Jasper supplied.

"Yeah, that," Harry shook his head. "I mean, even the supposed experts don't know what happened. I don't remember a thing. And I'm a so-called savior just because I survived and my parents didn't? If anyone's a hero it's my parents, they did something to protect me and drive him away!"

"You sound so sure of yourself," Jasper sent another wave of calm to his companion. His thirst wasn't much of a problem at the moment as he had all but the devoured all the candies without help. Add two Blood Pops and he no longer had to worry about becoming bloodthirsty for the rest of the day.

"Jasper, I was a one-year-old baby," Harry deadpanned. "Voldemort was the most powerful dark wizard of this century. The only way that I could have logically survived is if my parents did some odd sort of magic that saved me. Therefore, I am not a hero in any way, shape, or form. That title belongs to my parents."

Jasper smiled, "Most people would try to hold on to that fame and use it to their own advantage."

"Even if it isn't earned," Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Especially if it isn't earned," Jasper sensed that Harry was feeling overwhelmed and picked up _Wizarding Britain for Muggleborns_.

"I might be ahead but a review might do me some good."

"Is this one actually based on facts?"

"Professor Vector recommended it and so far everything it says applies to what I've seen of the Wizarding World."

Before Harry could so much as blink, Jasper tensed and closed the book. The compartment door was opened yet again, only this time with much more force. A small, in comparison to the miniature ourang-outangs flanking him, blond boy with pointed features and translucent pale skin walked purposefully into their compartment. He had the air of arrogance that only someone who got his every desire granted possessed.

Jasper was disturbingly brought back to the past, seeing a smaller boy with honey colored curls and cerulean blue eyes wearing an expensive coat, breaches, gloves, and riding boots. Him.

"There's been some rumors that Harry Potter is on board," the boy's eyes singled in on Harry. "It's you isn't it?"

Never mind, no matter how much of a spoilt brat who thought he was entitled to everything he used to be, Jasper couldn't recall being that tactless. Then he recalled just what set Harry off and mentally winced.

"My name is Malfoy. Draco Malfoy." Malfoy held out his hand. Harry shook it quickly while hiding his wariness, "Harry Potter."

Malfoy smirked, then glanced at Jasper, particularly the book in his hands, and sniffed contemptuously. "Lack of proper robes, a simplified guide to our world, a stupidly vacant expression. You must be a mudblood."

That little punk didn't… Jasper didn't need empathy to feel the entitled sense of superiority and the disdain towards anyone lower than him. Jasper clenched his fists and clamped his mouth shut to avoid snarling. It starts with snarling, then the bloodlust sparks up, and next thing he knows is that he's draining the idiot that pissed him off.

Of course, he now had another reason to keep himself in check. Harry was an iceberg of fury just waiting to crack and unleash the torrent on the pompous brat. Jasper counted himself lucky that Harry's emotions had taken a cold edge; it allowed the blond to control himself more than the hot edged emotions like last time. Still, Jasper knew that he had to get the three brats out of here before blood spilled.

"You'll soon learn, Potter, that some of us are better than others," Malfoy continued to a white-fisted Harry. "Particularly those of _cleaner_ and, shall we say, more _sophisticated_ breeding. I can help you there."

Gods above, and to think that Jasper's parents once wanted him to produce a brat like that!

"I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks."

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter. At this rate you'll end up in the same sticky end as your parents." The mute brutes started cracking their knuckles in a childish attempt at intimidation.

'That's it,' Jasper had had enough with the blond brat. Propelled by Harry's rising anger, Jasper allowed some of his friend's rage to enter his otherwise uninterested (come on, he's hitting his first century, give him some credit in the maturity area) mien.

"Even if money can solve many…annoyances such as court hearings, evidence of illegal activities or possession of illegal devices, to name a few, aren't your folks worried about some idiot in the family making a greenhorn mistake?" Jasper was almost 86 percent certain that this Malfoy was the son of the suspected Death Eater Lucius Malfoy _Modern Magical History_ briefly alluded to. "After all, even money has its limits. Wrong place, wrong time, wrong witnesses, wrong enemies who can _motivate_ others into properly investigating, and you might not be able to get away with an 'I was controlled by the Imperious curse' excuse."

Malfoy's blood traveled up to his cheeks and his fists were clenched so tight that Jasper twitched at the thought of him breaking the skin and bleeding. With Harry's potent rage, Malfoy's (while not as strong as Harry's) strong enough outrage, and the brutes' protective vibes, Jasper was on the edge of losing it and draining everyone near him. 'Shit, next time, I'm keeping my mouth shut, or better yet, I'm leaving the area immediately. Actually, maybe running all the way to school wouldn't be a bad idea…'

He really should have known that the brat wouldn't have backed away from a threat. Maybe alone, but not if he had his dumb muscles with him. All he could do right now was to try and calm everyone down.

Harry was furious, but not so much that he didn't notice the stiff way Jasper held himself. It didn't take him long to put two and two together. "You might want to leave Malfoy."

"We like it here just fine, don't we boys," Malfoy gestured to Crabbe and Goyle.

"I said get OUT!" Harry stepped forward. The three boys were blown backwards by an invisible wind and the compartment door closed by itself. Harry panted, his anger and urgency receding as did his accidental magic.

Jasper held on to the armrest for dear life, crushing it in the process. He was holding his breath and frantically searching for another Blood Pop. "Are you okay?" Harry cut through his haze.

Blood Pop in his mouth, Jasper sighed in relief, "I'll be sure to stay away from enclosed spaces and that brat."

"Maybe we should have locked it," Harry sheepishly pointed t the lock.

"Hn," Jasper took out another duffel bag, this one filled with clothes. "We should change into our uniforms."

Harry nodded and reached for his own bag. Turning their respective backs to the other, the boys were left to their own thoughts. Harry about his new friend and Jasper about the upcoming war and how his friendship would affect it.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Under normal circumstances, Harry would be nervously fidgeting and having a mental breakdown along with the rest of the firsties. However, considering that Jasper looked like he was going to have a coronary from the overpowering emotions in the room, Harry's own worries took a backseat to Jasper's general wellbeing.

"Look at it this way, Jasper," Harry tried to distract him. "At least you actually have an excuse for panicking, fainting, or any other embarrassing reactions."

Yep, he was doing a good job at distracting.

"Now that I think about it, that whole story about fighting a troll is absolutely ridiculous, right? I mean, can you just imagine all those angry parents stomping in here out for blood?"

Well, at least, that's what he assumed Mandy Brocklehurst's parents would have done. Harry recalled Mandy's mother literally yanking her out of Pierce's chokehold and scaring the whole gang away with threats of corporal punishment. By the time the Brocklehursts were done, Dudley and his gang knew better than to come near Mandy or any other kids on her block. The Dursleys tried rowing about it, but, for some odd reason, had backed off. Harry had guessed it had something to do about money or reputation.

"And for all that we know, the profs are getting their jollies watching us squirm. I'm sure they'll herd us in, soon. As soon as they stop laughing at all of the stupid theories. Or maybe they're the ones that started the rumors-"

"It's time," McGonagall said as she shepherded the kids to the Great Hall. Harry could almost hear Jasper whimper as he was assaulted by more students' emotions.

"So," Harry said sotto voice. "Here's to hoping we end up in the same House."

Jasper managed a pain-lidded grin.

Professor McGonagall came to the center of the staff table with a low stool and a… frumpy old hat that bursted into a song?

"_Oh you may not think me pretty,  
But don't judge on what you see,  
I'll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat than me.  
You can keep your bowlers black,  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I'm the __Hogwarts__ Sorting Hat  
And I can cap them all.  
There's nothing hidden in your head  
The Sorting Hat can't see,  
So try me on and I will tell you  
Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in __Gryffindor__,  
Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry  
Set __Gryffindor__s apart;  
You might belong in __Hufflepuff__,  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient __Hufflepuff__s are true  
And unafraid of toil;  
Or yet in wise old __Ravenclaw__,  
if you've a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning,  
Will always find their kind;  
Or perhaps in __Slytherin__  
You'll make your real friends,  
Those cunning folks use any means  
To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
And don't get in a flap!  
You're in safe hands (though I have none)  
For I'm a Thinking Cap!_"

"When I call your name, sit on the stool and place the hat on your head," McGonagall took out a long list from who knew where. "Abbot, Hannah."

Harry turned to Jasper, not knowing what the appropriate reaction to having a hat dictate your future should be. "At least the kids stopped panicking," Jasper shrugged. "For the most part."

"Better?"

"Yes, most of the older students," Jasper's lips twitched at the term, "are bored and slightly anxious for dinner to start. And it does help that the rest have finally piped down."

"I'm glad," Harry smiled. "Say, if we were to, uh, be—"

"Assigned to different Houses?" Jasper finished. "I won't personally care about that. Although, given your apprehension about Slytherin, question is, will you have a problem with that?"

"You say that as though you are certain you'll end up there."

"I know myself enough to know that I am capable of using any means to achieve my ends, as the hat says."

Harry glanced at Jasper, then snuck a glance at Malfoy, and said, "So long as you don't turn into prat like Malfoy, I can live with that."

"Malfoy, Draco."

The blond strutted, yes strutted, to the stool and put the sorting hat on his head. It barely touched the crown of his head before yelling, "SLYTHERIN!"

"I knew it," Jasper muttered.

"Murphy's Law strikes again," Harry agreed. Jasper had no idea what that was, but he assumed it described the situation neatly.

Before long, "Perks, Sally-Anne" joined the blue and bronze cheering squad. Leading to "Potter, Harry."

Harry swallowed down his agitation and stepped into the platform. Of course, it became ridiculously hard not to lose his nerve when everyone was whispering about him.

"Did she say Harry Potter?"

"Really, is that him?"

"I thought he was kidnapped."

"Isn't he supposed to be training under some assassins?"

"No, you ninny, didn't you read the_ Knot Zo Gud_? He's lived with faeries all his childhood and a Changeling played as his decoy!"

"Huh, I thought he'd be taller."

Ignoring it to the best of his abilities, Harry sat on the stool and pushed the hat down till it covered his eyes.

"_Hmm, difficult, very difficult. Plenty of courage here and not a bad mind. Not afraid to get your hands dirty, even if it's only as a means of survival. Interesting…_"

Harry felt a little too exposed all of a sudden.

"_Sweet spirits but you've got talent! I'll bet Mr. Malfoy did not expect that. Oh, do not worry, lad, anything I see in here is purely confidential. Trust me, you are not in any trouble. Hmm, you are loyal, but only to a very select few and they had to earn your trust first. My, but, you have a very keen need to prove yourself. My, my, I've not seen determination the likes of this in a child since…no, your determination is much more predominant than any bitterness. Yes, I think I know exactly were to put you. You will be great in _SLYTHERIN!"

Harry took off the hat and gave it back to a nonplussed McGonagall. Ducking to the Slytherin table, which had gone eerily quiet, Harry sat near the end of the table.

The silence lasted for only a bit longer until the Headmaster coughed, "Minerva."

She regained her bearings and continued to sort the first years. Harry waited impatiently for her to reach the Ws. The stares and the whispers were getting to him and it didn't help that he was sure Malfoy was planning something. After all, it's not paranoia if people are actually out to get you, as the particularly vicious glare from Malfoy indicated.

Finally, Jasper's turn came, Harry waited with baited breath as Jasper marched to the stool.

Jasper waited patiently for the evaluation and almost jumped when the hat spoke. "_Well this is a pleasant surprise! I haven't sorted a vampire since Aesileif Ragna, charming girl that one was. Grew up to be quite the powerful woman. Of course, who would have believed that a vampire dwelled in the badger's den, eh? But you are not the typical vampire, are you._"

"_You poke into people's minds, don't you._" Jasper narrowed his eyes. "_Then you know.."_

"_About your world and your contract with dear old Helga. Ah, now there's a woman who mastered the art of badgering. I swear, half of the time Godric, Rowena, and Salazar agreed with her was mostly to shut her up!_"

"_I don't suppose I need to tell you how important it is that you keep quiet._"

"_Oh, stuff it with the battle-strategies and plans to eliminate me, boy, even if I wanted to divulge your bloody secrets, I couldn't. Salazar and Helga made sure of that. Now sit back and let me sort you, I'm betting you're calling enough attention to yourself with how long I'm taking. Let's see…_"_  
_  
"_You and I both know why I'm here, just put me where I can fulfill my pact to the best of my abilities._"

"_Is that so?_" Jasper was willing to bet the entire Whitlock Estate that the hat was smirking. "_Well, then, I'm sure you'll find it satisfactory in…_SLYTHERIN!!"

This time, the Slytherins applauded their new member. Jasper sat down next to Harry who flashed him a smile.

Now that he was here, Jasper faced a war-zone he never thought he'd face. Boarding school. With magical, hormonal adolescents.

'Morituri te salutant,' Jasper silently toasted Helga.

* * *

So, what do you all think? I want to know what everyone thinks about Harry's sudden confession about his home life. Honestly, I hadn't intended it to do that, especially since it feels too soon, but the scene wrote itself. Since then, it's been written and rewritten and this is the final draft. I just felt that Jasper wouldn't know how to interact with a kid, especially an unprivileged one, so I can see him blurting out the first thing on his mind. I think that Harry was a ticking time bomb between getting to Hogwarts and leaving the Dursleys. He was too busy enjoying the wonders of being a wizard with Hagrid and obviously felt uneasy with the relatives to have a breakdown.

I think that he was fine with Ron and his anger was abated because Ron didn't notice anything wrong with Harry (such as the too big second-hand clothes, his too skinny body, the lack of an adult present at the station...). Ron and his siblings were just kids, so no alarm bells rung at Harry's state. Jasper, on the other hand, is no kid (despite his body), so he would be concerned and ask about it. Because of that, Harry is forcefully reminded that even in the WW he is no normal kid due to how the Dursleys treated him and inadvertently said more than he should have to his sympathetic and kind-seeming new friend. You guys are welcome to argue with me one this, since reactions in situations such as these are many and varied.

Also, I feel I should point out that yes Harry was abused. Not physically, unless if you count Dudley and his bully friends, but emotionally and mentally. I think that in cannon, Harry was made into the domestic servant that never gets paid, hence the rather strong comparison to a domestic slave. He was told that he was worthless and that he should work like a dog just to earn the basic necessities, hence his hero-complex and placing others' wellbeing before his own. By withholding food and other stuff, Harry was forced to work like a slave without either Dursley adult ever hitting him. I think that they were either too repulsed by magic to touch him even in anger or they feared jail for abusing a minor. I'm not making light of what happened to him, hell no, but I didn't want to make this into a melodrama and thus making a mockery of anyone who actually was abused. It was hard to write about it, my first time actually, so if anyone wishes to criticize or has a different opinion, please let me know.

On that note, I would like to know how you guys are still liking it. Good? Bad? Medium?


	3. Brooms, Trolls, and Acceptance

Hi, everyone. First off, I'd like to thank everyone for your support and positive feedback. Honestly, I was expecting at least one review contradicting my choice with Harry revealing some of his past. I'll be the first to admit that I'm unused to writing dramatic scenes, so I'm happy you all liked it. Here's to hoping you all like this new dramatic scene... not saying anything.

Before anyone worries about my attention to some of Harry's Housemates, I just feel I should point out that this is a boarding school, not a regular one. Meaning that Harry and Jasper are literally living with these students, they can't exactly escape their presence, and really it would be easier for them if they had friendly interraction with others. Don't worry, none of the others in Slytherin or the other Houses would be paired up with either Harry or Jasper. In fact, I'm not too sure about writing romance at all, since I don't know for how long this fic is going to go (the bloody thing is writing itself!) but I do know that I'm not going to think about it until Harry is at least fourteen, minimum. Anything else is too young. In fact, I'm starting to wonder if fourteen is too young. Also, I feel I should warn you guys that I've never written romance as the center of the story, just as an afterthought and not on the main characters. So, I'm unsure about that anyway. I'd be interesting to do, especially since I believe that your lover should be your best friend with tits/dick (whichever you prefer), but I don't know if I have the skills necessary to do that. Romance is one of the easiests genres to botch up with cheesiness and cliches. I don't want that to happen. I'm not saying I definitely won't pair the boys up, but I don't know if I will. If it feels like they're going in that direction and I'm not forcing them together for the sake of convenience (like JKR did with Harry and Ginny), I will. If they do end up together, I want it to be done organically, like the Ron/Hermione hints we saw in the series. Sorry for the long rant, it's just me panicking over possibly writting my frst potential romance, so I'm pretty nervous, especially since I envisioned as a friendship fic officially but imagined the romance since I didn't think my writting was capable of that. So we'll see.

On another note, yes I know this is a long AN I'll shut up soon, I skiped a lot of events because in some cases this is going to follow HP cannon a lot (unlike _Aiji_) despite Harry being in another House. If this feels too fast pased, tell me to slow down.

~!#$%^&*()~!#$%^&*()~!#$%^&*()~!#$%^&*()~!#$%^&*()~!#$%^&(*)~!#$%^&*()~!#$%^&*()~!#$%^&*()~!#$%^&*()~!#$%^&*()~!#$%^&*()

As people grow and move on with their lives, their perception of the past becomes distorted. That is a known fact. Unless if their pasts were so horrific that anything is better than what they had, people have the tendency to think that the past is always better than the present. Take for example secondary school. Many adults claim that those were the best years of their lives, a fact that is not true. They merely repress the bad memories of popularity contests, reputations and how it either made you a target or a ruler, the fickle crowd of sheep, clique politics, and many other horrors to every adolescent's insecurity.

Jasper, a lucky bastard who had been home-schooled by the best tutors, soon found out why Helga, as serious as a badger could sound, warned him of the Dark Ages of Secondary School. Kids are cruel. Especially when another is plagued with a pounding, empathy-induced headache.

"Aw, look at them, ickle Potter and Whitlock are just like twins," Malfoy mock-whispered to Crabbe and Goyle. "Next thing you know, they'll be sharing an infirmary bed, crying over their boo-boos."

'I'll give you a boo-boo to cry over, you little punk,' Jasper grimaced as Professor Quirell came closer. Harry winced a bit, his hand gently rubbing his scar; all the while he gave Jasper apologetic glances, thinking that he was the cause for Jasper's pain. He wasn't. Quirell wasn't only affecting Harry; he was also the cause for Jasper's headache. The man emanated such negative emotions that it put Jasper on edge. As potent as certain people's emotions could be, this was the limit. Jasper couldn't even distinguish one emotion from the other with this man. Not to mention that it felt like _two_ people's emotions, not just one. But that was impossible, unless if there were two souls in one body…

'Whatever it is,' Jasper decided to determine the cause when he had more information. 'It comes from the back of his head.' He had noticed that whenever Quirell turned his back, the emotions got stronger, not to mention that Harry received sharp pains on his scar. Also, Harry had mentioned in passing that the last time he saw the man, he had a head full of hair and didn't wear any type of headdress. Quirell's insistence on wearing a turban was more than a little suspicious, especially given the ridiculous excuse about driving away zombies from a village. It hadn't been that long since Harry had seen him, why did he choose to shave his head (it was obvious from the lack of hairlines) and wear a turban 24/7?

Regardless of the cause, Jasper couldn't wait to get out of the classroom. This man was not what he seemed. He was a predator, a powerful one at that, Jasper's inner-beast was struggling to come out and destroy the threat. Jasper tightened his grip on his thighs, thankful that Harry had insisted on the back row seats. Regardless of Quirell's actual power, the man was dangerous because he was smart enough to blend in. If he did something about his malignant emotions, no one would point their fingers at incompetent, stuttering Quirell. No, if Jasper wanted to eliminate this threat he'd have to be subtle about it and not show that Quirell's murder had anything to do with vampires. The man had made the Hogwarts Grapevine circulate the rumor that he was a shell of his former self due to a vampire. Jasper knew that if he did leave any marks of his vampirism, he'd be screwed. Question is, how else should he get rid of him? He was nowhere near proficient at magic, Quirell was most likely too paranoid for poisoning to work, and he couldn't think of anyone letting an eleven year old buy a gun…

Jasper almost jumped as a hand softly encircled his wrist. Recognizing it as Harry's, Jasper allowed himself to be tugged out the classroom before anyone else finished putting their materials away.

"Sorry," Harry said as he handed Jasper his bag. Jasper blinked as he took it, "For what?"

"You know, for…" Harry made a gesture towards his forehead. Jasper smiled, then shook his head, "It wasn't you, granted it didn't help, but you weren't the only one affected."

Harry narrowed his eyes at the classroom they had abandoned and quickened his pace towards the dungeons. After all, it was one thing for one person to get random headaches in the presence of another, but two?

Jasper followed his friend, thankful that their next class was flying instructions. As fascinating and striking as the castle was, Jasper felt a little too cooped up. A bit of fresh air would do him some good. Especially now, after he had to suffer Quirell's presence. What illegal substance was the Headmaster on when he hired Quirell? Surely a man as intelligent as Dumbledore would have noticed that something was off with Quirell. But, if so, why was he letting a dangerous man near the students?

Dropping off their bags in the dorm, and securing them with all of the locking and invisibility charms they had found in the library within the first week, the boys headed for the Grounds.

Jasper felt a great deal of irritation and insecurity coming from Harry as the halls became crowded with busybodies who wanted a glimpse at the Boy-Who-Lived. Yet another day when they'd be the last ones to arrive thanks to the crowd. "Give it a month, the hype of going to school with a celebrity should die out by then," Jasper encouraged a stone-faced Harry who was resolutely ignoring everyone but his friend.

"I didn't know you were such an optimist, Jasper," Harry muttered.

Once they reached the grounds, they were met by the segregated students. The Gryffindors with their golden and red scarves and ties stood to the left; the Slytherins surrounded the right with their silver and green ties and scarves. Aside from those indicators, there wasn't much difference between the students.

Daphne Greengrass, a girl who had taken a shine to Harry when he helped her hide her pet kneazle until she got special permission from the Headmaster to keep it, smiled and subtly waved them over. Malfoy scowled but schooled his expression before any Gryffindor could see his reaction to Harry and Jasper.

Slytherins never quarreled in public. Any disagreements or enmities were resolved in the private of the Slytherin dorms. Because the rest of the Houses and some of the teachers viewed Slytherins as dirty scumbags that had a place reserved in Hell upon conception – which really was true in some cases since Jasper viewed himself in that light – Slytherins always showed a united front against the rest of Hogwarts. Inside the dorms, however, was a another story. While there were some kids that were pureblood supremacists (such as Malfoy, Parkinson, Crabbe, Goyle, Bulstrode, and Nott), there were others that either didn't give a toss or were pro-half-bloods/muggleborns or there were simple opportunists. That led to some of the most underhanded, vile, epic fights Harry had ever seen.

Standing next to Jasper and Daphne, Harry noticed Hermione Granger among the Gryffindors. She was scowling at Jasper, apparently she never got over his rude dismissal of her, but she nodded when she saw Harry. Returning her nod, Harry nervously noted how Malfoy and Ronald Weasley were seconds from going at the other's throat.

"What on earth is that about anyway?" Harry asked no one in particular.

Daphne, following Harry's gaze, snorted and patted his arm consolingly, "I wouldn't bother myself too much about that, if I were you. The Weasley and Malfoy feud has been going on for spirits know how many centuries. All we can do is hope that they mutually annihilate each other so that the rest of us can continue on with our lives in peace."

"I think that was meant to be reassuring," Cynthia Moon muttered in her place at Jasper's left.

Jasper grimaced as the over-competitive and insufferable emotions coming from the feuding boys made him wish he could break a limb or two just to shut them up.

Luckily, the authoritative and exasperated aura of Madam Hooch signaled some modicum of order. "Alright, chaps, enough tomfoolery for today. Everyone stand next to a broom. Hold out your dominant hand and say 'Up!'" she ordered before anyone got any bright ideas, all the while giving Malfoy and Weasley a stern glare.

"Up!" many voices rung out, with only a few having any success. Jasper was a bit disgruntled, though he would claim that it was a mere projection of the unsuccessful children's feelings, when his broom did not immediately rise to his hand. Harry, on the other hand, beamed as he held the broom parallel to the ground.

After the third time, with some prompting from Harry, Jasper had managed to summon the broom to his hand. Though, really, it could have been encouraged by Jasper's particularly vicious glare.

"Good, good, now straddle the brooms and I will come around to correct stances and postures," Madam Hooch said when everyone had a broom in hand.

Jasper and Harry waited until a few people had done the task. Seeing a couple of kids, particularly those that summoned their brooms the first time, straddling their brooms, Jasper shrugged and mounted his broom like he would a horse. A very thin and stick like horse. And he ignored how he was feeling like a damn fool.

Harry followed his example and waited for Madam Hooch to go around. Jasper's overly sensitive hearing heard Daphne's whispered coo of "soooo cute!" It didn't take a genius to realize she meant Harry.

Daphne, like many other kids in Slytherin, had expected Harry to be a supercilious spoilt brat or a holier-than-thou savior-wannabe. To her pleasant surprise, Harry turned out to be a helpful nice guy who didn't judge. When Daphne's kneazle, Dymphana, immediately curled up in Harry's lap for a nap (whenever she wasn't hidden), Daphne was further convinced that Harry was a reliable bloke. After all, anyone that earned a kneazle's trust had to be trustworthy.

Jasper and Daphne's friends were of the personal opinion that Daphne was suffering from the empty nest syndrome and couldn't wait the three years for her siblings' first years. It also didn't help that Harry resembled a kicked puppy at times.

Harry, for his part, was a good sport about Daphne cooing over him and ignored all of Malfoy's jibes about it.

"That is not the correct position Mr. Malfoy," Hooch said with forced patience.

"I've been flying like this for years Madam," Malfoy returned with gritted teeth.

Tuning the argument out, Jasper frowned at the time Malfoy was making everyone waste. "How long d'you think it's going to last?" Harry intoned, annoyed.

"Until Malfoy stops being a prat and listens," Daphne said with a scowl.

"It's not like Hooch can leave the brat as is," Jasper said. "If anything happens to him, it's her ass. Especially if she didn't do her job by correcting his stance."

Harry shook his head and called out to Hooch, "Madam, could you check my stance? I don't think I'm doing it right."

Thankful for the reprieve, Hooch went towards Harry. Raising an eyebrow, Hooch asked, "Have you ridden a broom before?"

"No, Ma'am."

"Then it seems you have inherited your father's talent with a broom, lad. That is an impeccable starting position," Hooch gave him a smile and a wink in thanks for getting her away from Malfoy, and then turned to Jasper. "You've ridden on horseback before, am I right?"

Jasper blinked at the accurate guess, "Yes."

"Thought so, hold your knees tighter together and shift your weight an inch lower. You too, Miss Greengrass. Miss Moon, I need you to lower your hands, it's not too safe for a beginner to have her hands so near the tip…"

On and on, Hooch continued correcting stances, this time with the students' cooperation. Harry felt Malfoy's glare digging at his side and ignored it.

After a final, and failed, attempt to correct Malfoy's stance, Hooch ordered everyone into the air. However, before she could so much as whistle, Neville Longbottom, desperate not to be the last one on the ground, kicked off without warning.

Amidst cries for him to get back, Neville lost control of his broom and was hugging the tip of it for dear life, further loosing momentum. With a final buck, Neville was sent crashing to the ground with a resounding crack.

Harry dimly noticed how Jasper held his breath and was subtly edging backwards. His attention was diverted again when he heard Hooch mutter, "Broken," no doubt referring to Neville's left wrist considering how he was clutching it close. "Everyone get off your brooms and stay still. I'm taking this boy to the infirmary. If I so much as hear about any one of you flying, you will be expelled before you can say 'Quidditch.'"

"Did you see that fat lump?" Malfoy crowed as soon as Hooch was out of hearing. "Bet he's crying for his gran!"

"Shut up, Malfoy!" a pretty Indian girl Harry recalled was named Parvati snapped at him.

"Oooooh, I didn't know Longbottom was your type, Patil!" Parkinson cackled.

Harry spotted a glint near where Neville fell. He vaguely remembered something about a crystal-like ball the boy had received from his gran. Walking towards it before Malfoy could spot it, Harry bent over and grabbed it. Disregarding everyone's eyes on him, Harry turned to the nearest Gryffindor, who was coincidentally a defensive Weasley, and thrusted the ball to him, "Here, I think this belongs to Longbottom."

Ron gaped at him, unsure how to react to a decent act from a Slytherin. Rolling her eyes, Hermione took the Rememberall for Ron and smiled, "It's good to know that at least _some_ Slytherins are actually civil."

Malfoy looked as though steam was coming out of his ears. What made it worse was that Harry hadn't technically violated the Slytherin rules of conduct, he hadn't argued with Malfoy or done anything to directly show dissention between the ranks. He had simply done what the rules of courtesy demanded. Little bastard had found a loophole. Well, Malfoy smirked, he was a Malfoy and, really, rules were more like guidelines for someone such as him.

Jasper stood straight as his eyes narrowed in Malfoy's direction.

"It figures you'd defend a squib when you'd do the same for a mudblood!"

That did it. "Say that again?" Harry growled, "What did you call him?"

Jasper was shaking his head at Harry, but he was resolute. The gloves were off. Now that Malfoy had broken various rules, he was fair game. After all, one of the things that a snake never did was divulge another snake's parentage in public without permission. Unless, of course, if they wanted to get the shit beaten out of them.

"I believe that you heard me the first time, Potter," Malfoy said from the safety of Crabbe and Goyle's backs. "I said—"

He was cut off by his own shriek as he and his cronies hit the deck when Harry sped past them on a broom. With an ease only a natural could possess, Harry held himself up in the air as he called out, "What's the matter, Malfoy? Not man enough to take me on alone? Guess that all those boasts about evading helicopters were all stories!"

Jasper felt like a normal human would watch a train wreck as Malfoy took the bait. He was startled when he felt a smack on his arm and saw Daphne glaring at him, "You're the one he's defending, aren't you?"

"How did you—"

"Not important," Daphne insisted as she pushed him, unsuccessfully, towards the gates. "What does matter is that no professor sees them airborne, at least, not until they've landed. Now start scouting!"

"But what about Harry?" Jasper managed to say. Really, he survived a human and a vampire war and he didn't know how to react to schoolyard fights? Japer snorted at himself.

"The Gryffindors will catch him if he falls," Daphne pushed again. "They're noble about paying back their debts. Now go!"

Meanwhile, Harry and Malfoy were circling each other. Although, Malfoy seemed a bit nervous about fighting without backup.

Harry suddenly smirked, "Catch me if you can!" Then took off with Malfoy hot at his broom. Harry leaned forward and brought the broom tail upwards. Looking back briefly to check Malfoy's position, he saw that the blond was following his descending curve.

Instinctively, Harry knew that he'd be fine and allowed himself to descend to 20 feet.

15 feet.

10 feet.

At 5 feet, Harry pulled out in a sharp turn and flew a couple of feet to the left. He didn't even any attention to the ringing crack behind him that signaled Malfoy's fall. All that Harry felt was the wind blowing harshly at his face, his hands burning slightly from the tight grip on the broom, his scar exposed by his windblown hair, and his glasses were threatening to fall off.

He had never before felt so alive in his life!

Unfortunately, he knew that he had to dismount, soon. However, even as he landed near Blaise Zabini and Morag McDougal, his euphoria was not dampened in the slightest.

"Did you see that?"

"That was a Wronski Feint!!"

"First time on a broom, my arse."

"He's lucky he didn't snap his neck!"

"Is Malfoy okay?"

"Who cares?"

Harry ducked his head as he tried to manage his messy hair. He gave up once he managed to cover his scar, "Where's Jasper?"

"He and Daphne are scouting for the professors," Morag informed him. "Cynthia is keeping an eye on us from a distance to let them know when it's okay to stop damage control."

Harry blushed but did not apologize. Morag and Blaise didn't expect him to. After all, Malfoy had that coming for a long time. They'd be lying if they claimed otherwise. Besides, considering how Malfoy had violated the Slytherin rules, his crash was an appropriate punishment.

"By the way, Potter," Blaise drawled. "Are you certain that was your first time on a broom?"

"Yes."

"And yet, you performed a Wronski Feint."

"Ah what?" Harry scrunched his nose.

Blaise looked at him strangely, "You mean to tell me that you have never ridden a broom before, never heard of a Wronski Feint, and yet you've performed a highly advanced Quidditch move?"

"Queerditch? Isn't that a place?" Harry tried to make sense out of Blaise's words.

Harry didn't know why, but Blaise's smile all of a sudden caused a chill to run down his spine. "The gods can be cruel with their favoritism," Blaise mused out loud. "But, I suppose with all that you have to put up with, something had to give."

"Umm."

"Potter," Blaise grinned, showing his teeth. "When we get back to the Commons, be sure to talk to Marcus Flint. I'm sure he'd be interested in teaching you all about Quidditch. After all, talent like yours must not be wasted."

As soon as a battered Malfoy with, ironically, two broken wrists was dragged near by his cronies, Morag waved her arm in an exaggerated arc. Malfoy was whimpering, not unlike how Neville did, while Crabbe and Goyle hovered over him protectively with Parkinson fussing over him.

Harry felt a slight twinge of guilt at the sight but then he remembered Malfoy jeering, insulting, and bullying anyone weaker or poorer than him.

"What were you thinking!?" Hermione shrieked, "That was beyond irresponsible—"

"Hermione," Lavender Brown interrupted her. "You say that now, but if you knew what mudblood meant, you'd be singing a different tune."

Letting the Gryffindors, who were reputed for religiously following the 'a wand for a wand' adage, to silence the bushy-haired girl, Morag whispered to Harry, "Just keep quiet and let Blaise do the talking."

"What happened here?" Professor McGonagall walked towards the group with Madam Hooch. Cynthia, Daphne, and Jasper trailed behind them while surveying the situation. Jasper aimed a scowl at Harry, which he returned with a nervous grin.

"Just a friendly competition gone wrong, Professor," Blaise said, his face somber with a gentlemanly smile. "Potter and Malfoy had a little race to dispel the cold, unfortunately, Malfoy tripped on his broom that was used as the checkpoint and, as you can see, fell and broke his wrists," Blaise had a (dishonest) innocent glint in his eyes, "Malfoy has never been terribly athletic, I suppose we should have thought about little accidents occurring."

Someone give the man an Oscar!!

"Is that so?" McGonagall pursed her lips. "Can anyone else testify to that?"

Hermione opened her mouth but had her foot stomped on by Lavender while the taller Parvati covered her by stepping in front of her, "Of course! We all saw it happen, right?"

The Gryffindors, sans Hermione, all chimed yes. Even though none of them would mind getting Malfoy in trouble, still, Potter was the first one to take off. After he had given Neville's Rememberall back to them before Malfoy could claim it, they all felt that they owed him. And Gryffindors always pay back their debts, unlike certain backstabbing snakes.

"Is that true, Miss Granger?" McGonagall asked the rule-abiding student, ignoring Malfoy's whine of "of course she'd trust her favorite pet."

What McGonagall didn't notice was Malfoy, hiding the side of his face with Goyle's bulk, mouth 'filthy mudblood' at Hermione.

Hermione frowned, she still didn't know what 'mudblood' meant, but it certainly had to be very rude considering Harry's violent reaction. She knew that the right thing would be to tell the truth, but she still… the small anger at Malfoy heightened when she noticed him insulting her with the same word. And really, it served Malfoy right to break his wrists in that nasty fall, he had tried to steal the Rememberall from Neville before, who knew what he would have done with it if had he noticed it before Harry. No, there really was no need to get Harry expelled just for defending someone.

"Yes, Professor, that was all they did," Hermione answered primly, though she really couldn't meet her Head of House's eyes.

McGonagall frowned but left it at that. Without witnesses she had no palpable cause to continue and interrogation, even though there was clearly something amiss. But, surely it couldn't have been that far from the story she was told if Granger confirmed it. She nodded at Hooch and said, "I'm afraid, due to two student injuries, we'll have to postpone this lesson until next class. I'm sure you understand my concerns, Xiomara."

Hooch nodded and barked, "You heard the lady, chaps. Go on to your Commons or whatever class you have next. Malfoy, you come with me, we need to get your wrists splinted immediately."

As everyone started leaving the Grounds, Harry shimmied up to Hermione and smiled, "Thanks."

"You're welcome," Hermione nodded, "I still don't know what mudblood means, even _after_ I covered for you!"

"It means "dirty blood," usually a word used to insult muggleborns," Jasper drawled as he walked by Harry's side. "You could say that it's the wizarding version of "nigger" in terms of derogative expressions. It's a favorite word for pureblood supremacists like the Malfoys, since they believe that wizards born from muggles should no be allowed to be a part of the Wizarding World and that muggleborns are polluting 'their' world with their blood, culture, ideas, and so and so forth."

Hermione imitated a fish out of water when Parvati said, "See, Hermione?"

"You mean to tell me that Malfoy made a racist comment?" Hermione sputtered.

Harry nodded.

"Why that little—" Hermione snarled as she stomped her way to the castle.

Parvati and Lavender shrugged at the boys then left, giggling slightly over Jasper.

"You didn't have to defend me, you know," Jasper frowned.

"So, what, I was supposed to stand there while Malfoy insulted my best mate? Not bloody likely."

"Come on, might as well make sure nothing happens to our stuff," Jasper brushed his hand over Harry's, all was well with them.

"Blaise also mentioned something about talking to Marcus Flint," Harry smiled.

"Any reason why," Jasper quirked an eyebrow.

"He said something about Queerditch and about how my talent shouldn't be wasted."

"Talent? Queerditch?" Did Harry even swing that way? Was he even old enough to think of sex? No, he wasn't, he was only eleven for the love of all things holy! 'What the Hell is Zabini thinking of doing with Harry?!!?!'

While Jasper was agonizing about underground dorm prostitution, Harry continued with his typical flippant attitude, "He didn't really believe me when I told him it was my first time ridding a broom, sounds like I did some complicated game maneuver or something, weird, huh? Anyway, I'll go see Flint and get some answers."

"I'll come with you!" Jasper bellowed, then amended when Harry shot him a stunned glance, "I mean, after this attack on Malfoy, the rest of the pureblood supremacists are bound to try something. It can't hurt to have backup at the wings, right?"

"Sure, but Blaise recommended him. What's the worst that can happen?"

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Somewhere, far away, in a certain quarter of the realm of the dead, Helga Hufflepuff clutched her belly and pounded the grass in the throes of her (maniacal) laughter.

The rest of the Founders shifted uneasily. "What do you think is wrong with Hel-girl?" Godric Gryffindor pointed at her.

"It's always the nauseatingly nice ones," Salazar Slytherin shook his head in lament.

"Do you think this is permanent?" Rowena Ravenclaw frowned in worry.

They jumped as Helga boomed another belly-laugh and tried, unsuccessfully, to wipe away her tears.

"Let's leave her alone," and the three of them walked away to do important Founder things that had nothing to do with the laughing loon.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It turned out that the worst that could happen was Harry earning himself a position on the Slytherin Quidditch Team. At first Flint had been skeptical, even with Blaise's pensieve memories, but after a demonstration and Higgs' enthusiastic (read: desperate) urgings, Flint was convinced that Harry Potter, though a first year, would be a fine addition to the team.

The former Seeker Terrence Higgs was so happy to leave the team, while saving face and avoiding his parents' wrath, and the free time it provided to study his NEWTs that he didn't even wait for Flint to nominate Harry before explaining the rules. In and off the grounds.

"Quidditch is the only student-based entertainment that keeps the rest of the student population amused," Higgs had explained. "So in order to keep the quality of the game up, even though we're only students, there's plenty of financial motivation for the students to play a good game. It's certainly helped some of the hard-up students pay for their tuition when they couldn't get enough scholarships. But, since this is my last year, it won't be much of a loss, especially since I'll start my job at BWH Inc. as soon as I graduate. Well, not if I flunk my NEWTs, which I would have if I kept playing Quidditch."

At the mention of money, Harry nearly salivated and took out a planner, "How much are we talking about here?"

"Let's see, if you're a part of the team, you get 35 percent off tuition," Higgs said. "To further motivate the Captains to maintain a strong team and discard shoddy players, all members of the winning team get 45 percent off tuition plus, depending on how well the game was played. Captains get a bit more off, but I'm not sure about how much, I think an extra 5 percent off."

Harry whistled at the numbers. No wonder there was a big Quidditch craze even among the non-sport fanatics. That also explained the long training hours.

"What about scholarships?" Harry asked while jotting down the essentials. "I mean, there are bound to be some students that need the money but have zero ability for sports."

"You need to apply for that to your Head of House. They'll keep track of your grades and sometimes come up with a merit system. Such as, if you're an Outstanding student in a certain class, they'll take some money off your tuition. Or you could have a grade-point average of Exceeds Expectations," Higgs then gave Harry a searching look. "But tell me, last I checked, the Potter vault was pretty full. The only way you would be hard-up for money is if the goblins messed up."

"There's nothing wrong with saving money," Harry closed his notebook.

"Lived in poverty, have you?" Higgs grinned. At Harry's startled glance, he amended, "Look, regardless of what blokes like Avery or McNair say, there's nothing wrong with that. Although, now that you do have money, you could invest in proper clothes instead of the rags you insist on wearing. Trust me, it'll go a long way in hiding your previous state of financial affairs."

Jasper decided to cut in, "We'll keep that in mind, Higgs, thanks." Smiling crookedly, Jasper dragged out of the pleasantly innocent meeting. Thank goodness that he'd only growled in warning and waited to pounce at the first perverted move. He didn't think any of the boys would have allowed him to live down the humiliation.

"Is it that obvious?" Harry chocked out.

"Do you want the sugar-coated lie or the bitter truth?" Jasper asked.

Harry glared at him, "The truth, if you don't mind."

"Harry, you make your own bed, even though you don't have to. Your section of the commons is always spotless. Your only decent article of clothing are your robes and your uniform; which you're compulsive about keeping in pristine condition, even going so far as to attend Potions with a spare shirt to put over your uniform to prevent stains. You're pretty much going in street clothes, or rags as they should be called, to Herbology. And whenever there is a stain on your robe or uniform, your first reaction is to go to the laundry and clean it yourself, even though the House-Elves can do that for you and you probably wouldn't be able to find the laundry around here. Not to mention that you're money-conscious to the point that you keep weekly updates about your vaults, even the ones you can't touch until you're seventeen, almost as though you're expecting the money to disappear. You treat the objects that you acquired with your own money with utmost reverence and get upset when someone tries to take them without permission, borrows and returns them damaged, or tries to steal them…" Jasper trailed off as he noted Harry's mortification was rising at an alarming rate.

"I'm surprised Malfoy hasn't taken the mickey out of me for that," Harry murmured, "yet."

Malfoy's silence on that subject had nothing to do with Jasper. Just like Parkinson's had nothing to do with Daphne Greengrass.

"Let's see what kind of broom we can get you," Jasper changed the subject. There really was no need for Harry to bother himself with that when other pressing matters were unresolved. "Asking Snape any favors should be avoided, unless if we have something on him, that is."

Indeed, the Hogwarts Potions Master had a chip on his shoulder concerning Harry. Jasper was convinced that it was a family feud, of the personal kind, for no one could hate a child he never met with the kind of intensity that Snape had for Harry. Some family member of Harry's, probably his mother or father, must have slighted the man in some way and Snape was taking it out on the only living family member. Frankly, Jasper found it hard to respect a man that took his bitterness out on a child.

"I wonder if we can nick a broom catalogue from Blaise," Harry mused.

"Wouldn't be surprised if he's waiting for us in the dorms with one in hand," Jasper said.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Things progressed in relative peace come Halloween night. Jasper would stuff himself to the point that, had he been human, he wouldn't have been able to walk through the door. He'd run through his stash of Blood Pops like a man possessed. At night, he'd go to the infirmary to drink a blood packet Madam Pomfrey had gotten from a hospital. So far, he didn't feel even the slightest tingle of bloodlust towards any human. Between the filling human food and nightly blood feeds, he was keeping his thirst under control for the first time. Madam Pomfrey had mentioned that they should cut him back to a feeding per week, "But," she had said, "you're still young, asking more control from you would be absurd and counter-productive since complete abstinence is the sure-fire way of people having a relapse. Besides, there's still time to build a regimen, maybe in a year or two we'll begin doing that, when you've aged more."

To Jasper's chagrin, most of the regular staff was aware of his condition. Meaning that Headmaster Dumbledore, Professors McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick, Sprout, Sinistra, and Vector were privy to it. He did not like that, but Helga had warned him that special cases such as himself couldn't go to magical schools without the Headmaster and his inner circle knowing. Most likely, it was for the children's safety, but Jasper still didn't like it.

He didn't have much to complain about, since Pomfrey, McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, and Vector were discreet and complete professionals about it. If something didn't have to do with the students' safety, they minded their own business. He would have probably withstood it more willingly if it weren't for Snape and Dumbledore trying to glimpse at his mind. His memories and knowledge of his home world had been sealed airtight by a ritual, but Jasper hated having people poke into his business, much less his mind.

So, with Helga's lessons on Mind Magic (the only magic she taught him for obvious reasons) in mind, Jasper refused to look either man in the eye for any reason. Meanwhile, he'd always be sure to try and think of the most inconsequential things while in their presence.

'I should probably learn Occlumency,' Jasper thought to himself. It would help to keep the codgers prying minds away. Sadly, while Occlumency would help a bit in keeping control, it was a Mind Art. It could only help so much with his emotion-based gift.

Really, his gift was more of a burden at times, especially in a school. All the teenage drama, the insecurities, the spiteful fights, the petty competitions, the new self discoveries (both physical and mental), the romances, the split-ups, the sibling rivalries, the jealousies… Sometimes, Jasper tuned out of the world outside his mind just to make sense out of what he was, who, and where feeling. Even his own thoughts didn't make sense during these periods.

Therefore, it is understandable that in moments like these, he does not pay attention to his surroundings. Hence why he found himself helping Harry in aiding Daphne find her thrice-be-damned kneazle.

"Ooooh, I do hope she's okay," Daphne said. "Poor Dymphana's probably scared all alone in this big, dark castle. I do hope she's okay!"

'Scared is not the word I'd use,' Jasper was smart enough not to verbalize that thought. He didn't know, and didn't want to, what happened to Parkinson after she correctly laid the blame of her tarnished bed on the kneazle, but her screams were heard everywhere in the Commons. Really, Daphne suffered a blind love for her pet.

"Here," Harry said as he returned from the Owlry with Hedwig affectionately nipping his fingers. "Owls can track and find anything right? Hedwig here should be able to find Dymphana."

The owl hooted imperiously, almost as if saying 'of course I can do a measly little task like that!' She flew out of Harry's arm and dived to the left corridor.

"You'd better get ickle Hedwig a nice little treat, she's such a good owl!" It really was no secret among the Slytherins that Daphne Greengrass had a weakness for cute things, Harry included.

"Nah, you spoil that owl as is, Harry," almost to the point that Hedwig was jealous of Jasper at times. And no, that was not Jasper confusing his emotions with an owl's.

"I don't, I just give her treats, play with her, and let her fly around," Harry said.

The unusual threesome followed the owl to the… Girl's Bathroom!?

"Hedwig," Harry started cautiously, he didn't want to upset his proud owl. "are you sure Dymphana's in there?"

Hedwig hooted and nodded her feathery little head. Sensing her Master's reluctance to enter the room, Hedwig planted herself on his shoulder and began to comb his hair.

"My Dymphana, she knew that I'd have to go to the bathroom sooner or later and decided to wait for me here," Daphne cooed. "You boys wait out here, I'll get my little genius out. Don't worry baby, mama's gonna make it all better!" She entered the forbidden domain.

"They really do exist," Jasper widened his eyes.

"What?" Harry caressed Hedwig's belly.

"Doting owners."

"It took you this long to figure it out? I mean, Daphne probably thinks I'm a stray puppy she just adopted."

"And you're alright with that?"

"She means well, besides, I kind of like it at times," Harry admitted, blushing.

"Hah," Jasper leaned against the wall the bathroom's side. "How are you feeling?"

"About tomorrow? Pretty good if you discount the nerves and Flint telling me that I'd better get the snitch or die trying. I'll be singing a different tune tomor—" Harry paused when Jasper tensed.

"What—"

"Get ready to run," Jasper warned.

It didn't take long for the stomping to reach Harry's ears. "Daphne! Whatever you do, don't come out!" Harry yelled. Next thing he knew, a 10 foot tall mountain troll entered the corridor.

Harry didn't think, he just grabbed Jasper's arm and ran. The troll ignored the girl's bathroom in favor of the tasty running morsels.

None of them noticed Daphne peeking out of the bathroom and noticing the chase. When the coast was clear, she opened the door with Dymphana in hand and Hermione Granger behind her. "Come on, we have to find the professors pronto!"

"Why—"

"There's a bleedin' troll in the castle and it's chasing Harry and Jasper, do you need any more reasons?!"

Hermione didn't say anything, she just turned in the opposite direction the troll was going and ran. Daphne looked at Dymphana, "We need to find help or they will die."

Dymphana jumped out of Daphne's arms and turned a corridor, the girls following as fast as they could.

Meanwhile, Jasper had a bit of a dilemma. Every fibber in his body demanded that he turn around and kill the strong but stupid predator behind him. On the other hand, if he attacked then Harry would know he was a vampire. Granted, Harry was the least judgmental person he knew, but even muggles knew about vampires. Vampires were either feared or romanticized; Jasper didn't want his friend to look at him differently.

"Hedwig, don't!" Harry cried. Hedwig was pecking at the troll's face, trying to distract it in order to give her master an opportunity to flee. The troll's humongous hands closed in on its face to get rid of the annoyance, the club close to smashing the owl and the other hand trapping her. She wouldn't get a chance to escape before she'd be crushed.

Fear-stricken, terrified, and desperate to save his friend, Harry bellowed out the first spell on his mind, "Wingardium Leviosa!!"

It missed, instead of levitating Hedwig out of harm's way, the spell levitated the club out of the troll's hands. Hedwig was still trapped between the large hands.

Jasper didn't think. He didn't think about consequences or repercussions or secrets. He just acted on instinct and Harry's "flight or fight" emotions. He slipped to the troll's left leg, grabbed it and pulled it down from behind it, however, instead of the troll flying backwards the force only caused it to fall face first… right into Harry?!

"Shit!"

Harry, after years of Harry Hunting, was rather quick to run at the sight of bone-breaking danger. So he turned and ran from the falling figure and jumped and rolled to avoid collision. Hedwig had flown upwards and escaped relatively unscathed, though she was missing a feather or two and her right foot had a small cut. At the sight of his beloved bedraggled owl, Harry aimed the club parallel to the troll's head. Just as the troll was beginning to get up, Harry released the spell and the club landed on the troll's head, breaking a bone and blood was dripping down the troll's head.

As foul-smelling as the blood was, Jasper felt with utter dread as his thirst returned. He had no Blood Pops, certain he wouldn't need them considering the feast he was supposed to attend had Daphne not asked for assistance. All he could smell was the pooling, rancid blood coming out of the troll; the better smelling, but unsatisfying blood of the avian; and Harry's contradicting scent of hyacinths and spices.

Thanking whatever deity allowed Harry to come out of the event with only a bruises (on his shins, back, and arms), Jasper focused frantically on the troll. With a speed he hadn't used since his adult body was taken from him, Jasper almost flickered to the troll's side and bit its neck. Ignoring the stillness of the already dead troll, Hedwig flying away from him, and Harry jumping backwards, Jasper drank the fetid blood like a man in the Sahara would drink water.

It was the hardest thing he had ever done in his life, to deny himself the blood that was spicy and as subtly sweet as Harry's scent in order to drink his fill in the heavy and muddy one of the troll's. But Jasper was never as proud of himself as he was that moment. Harry was safe from him, he hadn't killed a child as he had feared. Harry… his friend mattered more to him than the blood.

Drinking his fill, Jasper took out his wand and muttered a wound closing spell. The fang marks disappeared as though the troll had never been bitten. Licking the remnants of blood off his lips and some of his chin, Jasper slowly turned to Harry who held a mildly disgusted look on his face.

Hurt and disappointed, Jasper waited for the rejection he knew was to come.

"Not to criticize," Harry started while holding his nose, "but how could you not barf? I mean, the troll smelled of rotten eggs and I'll bet he tasted worse."

"Huh?" Jasper gaped at him. Surely he had heard wrong…

"Is it safe to assume you're a vampire?" Harry asked as though they were discussing the weather. "Or are all of those legends just rubbish and you're something else?"

"No, you got it right the first time," Jasper was still unsure. Maybe this was a self-induced daydream? But he never ran away from reality when things went bad.

"That explains some things at least," Harry mused.

"Harry, you're starting to scare me," Jasper said in a deceptively light voice. "You're supposed to run away from me screaming and fearing for your life. And yet, here you are talking as though I just told you my favorite food! Hell, even your emotions are damned calm!!"

"Why?" Harry seemed genuinely confused. "I mean, if there's a whole secret world full of wizards and witches, why shouldn't there be vampires? Granted, that was probably one of most disgusting things I've had to watch but you're still the same Jasper as ever, right? That's all that matters."

'This is the kind of acceptance only a child can have,' Jasper tried to convince himself. "Technically speaking, vampires are classified as Dark Creatures, along with werewolves, and we're virtually second-class citizens in the Wizarding World. I'm only allowed here because the Headmaster and some of the staff know and make sure I don't slip and…" he gestured at the troll.

"But you didn't and, for the record, I'm the one that…killed…it," Harry stared at the troll in horror.

"It was in self-defense, Harry," Jasper risked a step closer to him, Harry didn't move. "If it had gotten up, it would have killed you and Hedwig." Jasper came closer until he was face-to-face with Harry, "It didn't feel any pain, the club smashed his head too hard. His brain probably didn't process the pain when it died."

"You've got blood stains on your robe and some on your face," Harry said, preferring not to think about it. "You should clean it up before someone notices."

"_Scourgify_," Jasper recited another handy spell. The blood was gone, although he was a bit wet, so he added a drying charm.

Hedwig had landed on Harry's shoulder and was cooing at him, trying to dispel her master's distress. Jasper, hesitant, said, "Still, you're taking this a little too well. Even you can't be that accepting to my being a vampire." When something seemed too good to be true, it usually was.

"The Dursleys hated me my whole life just because I was different," Harry said, subdued. "I'll be damned if I do the same thing to one of my friends. It'd be the same as hating someone just because they have different skin color, having magic, not having magic, being handicapped or any other stupid reason."

What did it say about a person whose lived a century when they're surprised by an eleven year-old?

'You're a better person than I was, kiddo,' Jasper smiled. "Thanks," the relief pooled out of his voice.

"Potter! Whitlock!" Professor McGonagall's voice boomed in the corridor. She, Snape, Flitwick, and Quirell rounded the corridor and came at the sight of a dead troll and the relatively unharmed students and owl.

"You two are okay!" Daphne shouted from behind them. Hermione looked queasy at the sight of the troll. Quirell whimpered and threw himself at the wall, dry heaving.

Jasper fought the urge to snarl. As much as the man's presence gave him a headache, he could tell that his actions were feigned.

"What in Rowena's garters happened, boys?" Flitwick crushed the ceremony before it began.

"Hedwig tried to distract the troll and got hurt," Harry gestured at her cut. "So I used the levitation spell to get her out, it missed but hit the troll's club instead. With it distracted, Jasper casted a tripping jinx so the troll fell face first and I dropped the spell so the club fell on the troll's head."

"That was succinct," Daphne muttered.

"Was it really necessary to kill the beast, Potter?" Snape said silkily.

Harry flinched and Jasper hissed in response, "The damned thing was getting up. We didn't know when and if help would arrive, what else were we supposed to do?"

"Indeed, Severus, I'd like to know myself," Flitwick challenged his colleague. Really, the man's grudge with James was reaching absurd levels.

Snape's lips thinned but he did not do much else.

"Well," McGonagall interrupted. "Now that the emergency was fortunately taken care of without casualties, we would all like an explanation as to why the four of you weren't at your dorms when Professor Quirell announced there was a troll inside."

"I don't know about Granger," Daphne decided to become the spokesperson for the Slytherin trio. "But Dymphana here had been missing before the feast started, I got worried and decided to search for her. When I couldn't find her at the dorms, I asked Harry for some help and Jasper came along. We decided at some point to use Hedwig, Harry's owl for those who don't know, to track down Dymphana and we found her at the girl's loo. I went in there and the boys waited outside for me. I just met up with Granger in the loo when we heard this loud noise and Harry warning me not to come out. I took a discreet peek and saw a troll chasing Harry and Jasper. The rest, you all know, my baby genius found you and we went to help the boys. Isn't that right, my brave little heroine?" She petted a smug Dymphana behind her ears while holding her.

"Miss Greengrass," Snape said with forced patience. "It is understandable that a muggleborn like Whitlock or a muggle-raised wizard like Potter wouldn't know this, but why did you not try the point-me spell the first time?"

Daphne's hand abandoned Dymphana's ears and rested on her chin. She muttered, "You're right, now why didn't I think of that?"

'Because you're a ditz when it comes to cute things?' Snape, Jasper, and Harry thought simultaneously.

"You…forgot?" McGonagall chocked.

"I suppose I should add these spells to the curriculum. If even the purebloods are forgetting about 'em," Flitwick muttered to himself.

Snape discretely whispered to his colleagues, "Doting owner, fanatical at that."

McGonagall and Flitwick didn't ask anymore questions. They knew what a devoted pet owner was like when said pet was missing, particularly the younger years.

"That does not explain why Potter and Whitlock helped you," Snape turned his eyes to his least favorite Slytherins. Potter for his father, Whitlock by proxy and for his secrets.

"I like Dymphana myself, why wouldn't I have helped Daphne find her?" Harry answered honestly.

"Considering how much of a ditz Daphne can be when it comes to her blasted feline or anything that can be deemed as 'cute,'" Jasper ignored the feline and her girl's hisses. "I figured it couldn't hurt to have someone responsible along."

"Thanks, Jasper," Harry said sardonically.

"I'll retract that statement the day you can say 'no' to Daphne," Jasper smiled crookedly at his friend.

Snape scowled but remained mute.

"Very well," McGonagall conceded, "that does explain your absence at the dorms. Now, Miss Granger, it's your turn."

Hermione blushed as the adults' attention turned to her. Normally, she loved it when adults paid attention her and took her seriously, but this was not a normal occasion. How was she supposed to tell her alibi without sounding like a lost little girl? Besides, she didn't want to sound like a tattletale.

"I, I, um," Hermione gulped, "I wasn't at the feast at all, Professor, so I didn't know about it until, well, you know."

"I see," McGonagall's lips thinned, "And why weren't you at the feast, Miss Granger?"

"I," Hermione took a deep breath and said, "I wasn't feeling well, so I was at the loo for the remainder of the time…" she trailed off, blushing at the second lie she told to a teacher. 'This is becoming a dangerous habit!' Hermione sweated.

The professors took her reddening cheeks for something else (such as diarrhea or some other embarrassing bodily functions). McGonagall tuned to Daphne, "Can you verify this, Miss Greengrass?"

"Yes, but I'd rather not go into details," Daphne said.

"Very well," McGonagall nodded. "This has been a long night, so I'll ask you to go back to your dorms immediately."

"But professor," Harry frowned. "What about Hedwig, I mean, it looks like a shallow wound but, could I at least take her to the infirmary?"

"I don't see why not, my boy," Flitwick smiled at him. "But as soon as she's back to the Owlry, you go back to the dorms. Mr. Whitlock will you accompany him? I'd rather Mr. Potter not go outside alone."

"I was going to ask that, professor, thank you."

"Oh, and Messrs Potter and Whitlock?" McGonagall graced than with a rare smile. "Ten points to Slytherin each, for valiantly fighting off a troll and a fair amount of luck."

'Valiant my ass, survival was more like it,' Jasper mentally but kept silent as he trudged out of the corridor with Harry, Daphne, and Hermione.

He was concerned though. His strength had diminished, in his old world, that troll would have been sent flying from that tug. Helga had warned him that his strength and speed would accommodate his body to match any other growing vampire boy, but he didn't think it was that bad. He needed to regain his strength. Unlike in his old world, vampires could become stronger by training their bodies, gifts, and magic. Likewise, they could become weak if they grew lax. This merit system suited Jasper better than the old one, he had met many a vampire in his old world that didn't deserve or took for granted the basic advantages of a vampire.

Then there was the other problem. Jasper glanced at Harry rubbing at Hedwig's chest, his finger's would linger close to her wound but retreat when they almost touched it, almost as though he was afraid he'd hurt her. As much as Harry's unconditional acceptance filled him with a warmth he hadn't felt since he was a human, he still knew he had to warn his friend of how dangerous he could be. Though, whether he would take those warnings to heart was another matter. Harry had the loyalty of a dog, after all. Nothing short of death or outright betrayal would make Harry abandon any one of his friends.

Jasper walked closer to Harry and brushed his hand with the human's. The contact reassured him, even more so when Harry's fingers wrapped themselves around his wrist.

"By the way," Daphne told Hermione, "Next time he insults you, punch him or hex him, trust me, it'll make you feel loads better than crying ever will."

Jasper and Harry looked at each other and promptly decided they didn't want to know.

~!#$%^&*()~!#$%^&*()~!#$%^&*()~!#$%^&*()~!#$%^&*()~!#$%^&*()~!#$%^&*()~!#$%^&*()~!#$%^&*()~!#$%^&*()~!#$%^&*()~!#$%^&*()

I figured this was a good place to end. Instead of a cliffhanger or a dramatic moment. Life goes on and I wanted it to end with the status quo.

On an ending note, I apologize profusedly to anyone who was offended by the use of the n'word. Trust me, I felt dirty writting it, knowing the implications and the historical references. But, I felt that it was a close equivalent to mudblood, and Hermione would get the insult even more if she had something to reference to it. Jasper just wanted the mesage to hit home. Also, considering what he was and what he fought for as a human, I felt that in his own way, he was asking for redemption by letting her know. I know this is no excuse if anyone was offended, that word and its connotations are wrong on many levels and I wanted to show that by putting it on the same level as "mudblood." Again, I am sorry if anyone was offended.


	4. Schemes

Here is the next instalment! I'm glad everyone likes it and all the positive feedback! And I'm sorry about the mindless pairing babble last chapter, I was having a mild nervous attack over trying something so very new and incorporating it to the main story. Hehe (sweatdrop). You'll see that Harry and Jasper have gotten a bit of a following, but eh, they might just need all the help they can get to survive the snake's nest and the "subtle" Dumbledore-training-Harry-for-the-war. Don't worry, neither of them will be paired with any of the OCs.

Anyway, here's the story.

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They meant well, really they did. Jasper had no doubt about that, as he could feel the genuine concern dripping from them. However, they really needed to find a more effective way of expressing it.

"Now don't you worry about the unnecessary stuff, Harry," Blaise said while munching on his spotted dick early in the morning, "If you break an arm or two, Madam Pomfrey will have you back to fit condition in a wand wave."

'That's unnecessary?' Jasper couldn't help but wonder what kind of environment Blaise was raised in.

"Be careful about the Weasley twins," Daphne passed some of her sausages and buttered crumpets to Harry's mostly barren plate, "They aren't called the "Human Bludgers" for nothing. I heard that a good whack from one of them can send anyone to the Hospital Wing."

'There are better ways of warning someone,' Jasper shook his head.

"Don't take Flint seriously when he says 'get the snitch or die trying,'" Cynthia said, "The worst they can do is take you off the team or leave you as reserve Seeker."

'… And it started well too,' Jasper pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Because you're a Slytherin, the Gryffindors might not go easy on you just because you're a first year," Morag said, "So be sure to do your best out there."

'Was that a warning or a threat?' Jasper double checked on Morag and noted that she was only feeling anxious and worried for Harry. You'd never know just looking at her, calmly eating her Bath buns and toasts with blueberry-jam as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

Jasper was beginning to suspect that his theory that most Slytherin children were socially inept was true, at least when it came to honest relationships.

"Eat," Jasper ordered when Harry didn't take a bite of the food on his plate, he even added a pealed orange for good measure, "You need to be energized for the match."

"But," Harry started, "I'll probably throw it up and—"

"Relax," Jasper lightly squeezed his elbow, "You'll be fine. If a fanatic like Flint is feeling confident about your abilities, then you're as prepared as can be."

"Doesn't matter if I'm ready or not," Harry insisted, though he ate everything that was put on his plate. After living with the Dursleys, Harry had learned to never waste any opportunity to eat, no matter the circumstances. "I mean, if Higgs ended up in the Hospital Wing on his first game, and he was _thirteen_ at the time, then what makes you think I won't end up worse!?"

"_But_ he still caught the snitch nonetheless," Morag said with a perfectly straight face, "And if you think Higgs was badly harmed, you should have seen the other bloke. I heard that the Slytherin Beaters were particularly vicious on that game, especially towards the opposing Seeker."

Harry blanched. Somehow, he could just see his early demise at the Weasley twins' clubs. He shook his head at the images of his bloody, mutilated cadaver on the Pitch's moist grass.

"Harry," Jasper added an omelet to Harry's plate, which was devoured instantly, "If anything _does_ happen, we'll have our wands ready to catch you or something."

Cynthia nodded, "I've been practicing and my cushioning charms work fairly well."

Harry smiled, the unfriendly wasps in his stomach dissipating somewhat. "Thanks, mates."

"Potter!" Flint barked, "Time to go!"

Harry quickly finished his omelet, kippers, and orange juice. Just as he was about to leave, Jasper brushed his hand to Harry's, "Good luck," Jasper smiled crookedly.

"Yeah, you go give them Hell!" Daphne whooped.

"Try not to make the Gryffindors cry too much," Blaise's smile was all teeth.

"That's a bit too optimistic, Blaise," Harry muttered but smiled at them. He rushed to join the team.

Jasper shoveled more black pudding into his mouth, with his very frightening mother's memory reminding him to mind his manners. Even though the troll's blood had sated him yesterday, and the extra packet of blood Pomfrey had given him due to the nature of Quidditch had further eased his thirst, he'd rather not chance anything. He felt bloated with the blood he'd drunk yesterday evening and then at midnight in the infirmary, but considering how violent Quidditch could be, particularly when two rival Houses were playing, the professors had agreed with him that caution was the better part of valor. Hence why he was stuffing himself as if this breakfast was his last meal.

"Everyone finished?" a very hyper Daphne asked. She was so excited that she was bouncing on her seat. Dymphana, who casually rested on her mistress' lap, glared at her to settle down.

"Why are you bringing her?" Jasper cautiously asked.

Daphne looked at him as though he were an idiot, "You don't expect Dymphana to miss Harrykins' first game, do you?"

"Ah~" Jasper left it at that. There were some things he really didn't need to know about. Daphne's obsession with her pet was one of them.

"Come on," Cynthia defused the atmosphere as soon as she finished her honeyed porridge, "If we don't get some seats now, we won't get a bleedin' glimpse of the game."

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Harry shuffled his feet while he waited along with the team to enter the Pitch. His Nimbus 2000, the broom that his team had cajoled him to purchase, laid in his loose grip.

Personally, Harry had been all for purchasing a cheaper CleanSweep 7 or even a Comet 260, but Flint had insisted that if he was going to buy a new broom, he'd better get the best on the market. Truthfully, it had been Higgs who had convinced him more than anything. Higgs had said that the Nimbus series was said to be much more durable than the CleanSweep or the Comet series, meaning that it would last Harry longer. Not to mention that it'd be best to by the upgrade now rather than waste money and do it later. What broke the camel's back, though, was Jasper's "I'd rather you get a high quality broom and avoid malfunctioning accidents rather than you get a cheap one and break your neck because of it."

Needless to say, Harry had caved in to the logical arguments.

Harry stopped reminiscing when Flint marched to the Pitch. Following the emerald sport robes, Harry tried to ignore the sense of dread that filled his stomach.

"And here they are ladies, gents, and Slytherins! The first match of the year has pitted mortal enemies Slytherin and Gryffindor against each other!" Jordan's voice enticed the crowd like a professional cheerleader.

"Introducing the Gryffindors! Captain and Keeper Oliver Wood; Chasers Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinet, and Katie Bell; Beaters Fred and George Weasley; and Seeker Steven Williams!"

The crowd cheered loudly, drowning out the boos that came from the Slytherin quarter.

"And now for the Slytherins! Captain and Chaser Marcus Flint – yeah, the troll-like one; fellow Chasers Adrian Pucey and Mercutio Montague – don't let the last name fool you ladies, he's no Romeo; Keeper Miles Bletchley; Beaters Brian Derrick and Jonathan Bole; and their new, _first year_ Seeker Harry Potter!"

There were some boos that almost drowned out the Slytherins' cheers, but the snakes were determined to be heard and recognized.

Paying the kerfuffle no heed, Harry studied his scarlet-clad opponent. Steven Williams was a lanky fifteen-to-sixteen-year-old boy with long limbs, no doubt an advantage for snatching the snitch in a close race. What offset that benefit was his height, the older boy was close to 5'11'' if Harry had to wager a guess. Seekers were ideally short, slight, fast, and flexible. And that was one advantage Harry wasn't going to waste.

Harry nodded at the boy in acknowledgement and received a startled nod back with a scrunched brow.

"Captains, shake hands," Hooch glared at the two boys into complying. Only there was more squeezing done than shaking, "Now, I want a nice clean game."

'She _is _talking to Flint, right?' Harry resisted the urge to snort. He mounted his broom simultaneously with the two teams and kicked off.

As soon as gravity was defied, Harry felt all of his previous worried and fears shed from him as though he were a snake shedding useless skin.

Hooch's whistle and the balls being tossed into the air instigated the game faster than a bee buzz.

"And the Quaffle is immediately taken by Angelina Johnson from Gryffindor. What an excellent Chaser, that girl is, rather attractive too—"

"Jordan!" an irate McGonagall shouted from nearby.

"Sorry, Professor."

Harry tuned out everything else that was commented besides the scores like Higgs coached him to. Leaning slightly, he began his perusal of the Pitch, hoping to find the elusive Snitch before Williams. After a few breaths, he spotted something golden near the Gryffindor goal post. Harry rushed towards the goal post, Williams at his broom tail.

The golden glint seemed to move downwards, Harry followed it only to be stop as Williams went bellow him. Harry jerked into a stop to avoid colliding with the other Seeker. Williams continued going down in the Snitch's general direction but Harry had cut him off in the middle, forcing Williams to jerk into a stop much like the older boy did to Harry.

Harry flattened himself to follow the snitch downward with more ease, the Hermes-like ball continued going down until it turned to the right. Harry followed the motion, copied by Williams two seconds later.

Hearing a harsh whistling sound, Harry spun on his own broom like a pirouette. He made a rolling turn and avoided the bludger sent towards him via the Weasley twins. He straightened himself out and noted that he'd lost sight of the snitch. Luckily, so had Williams as the older boy had stopped a couple of meters from him and wasn't moving.

"Looks like Potter lost his chance at the Snitch thanks to our very own Human Bludgers!"

Harry scowled but didn't allow himself to lose focus. He went higher to get a better vantage point, Williams apparently had the same idea as he followed seconds later.

Harry noticed another glint of gold near the Ravenclaw stands and just as he contracted his muscles to move, Williams shot off towards the same spot in Harry's vision.

Harry followed, making himself as light as possible and flattening himself like a bullet. He surpassed Williams but turned away immediately to the left, Williams following and passing him, though Harry found it unnecessary.

It hadn't been the snitch. The gold belonged to a particularly large pendant a little Ravenclaw girl (first or second year, Harry guessed) was showing off.

Harry was about to continue searching when he noted that Williams did a double-take. He glanced back at Harry almost as though wondering why he wasn't moving. Harry played dumb to the attention and returned to scoping out the snitch. Williams kept his eyes on Harry, particularly on his body.

'Is he…guessing which direction I'm going to fly to?!' Harry thought, outraged that Williams was going to use Harry's search for the snitch to his advantage. Harry remembered how Higgs had told him that new players sometimes advertised their next move with their bodies unconsciously. That was why some of the more observant Seekers could make inexperienced ones do the searching for them. They would then race to the snitch before the younger one finished taking off.

Well, then, if Williams wanted to follow the leader… Harry rushed to the middle of the Pitch. His theory was confirmed when Williams followed him. Feeling a seldom experienced sadistic urge for revenge, Harry flew towards the quaffle-wielding Spinet. He came closer to her, and closer, closer, until he pulled away to the right. Williams used too much speed and crashed into the unsuspecting girl, causing them both to fall and the quaffle was immediately picked up by Pucey.

"Williams, you absolute moron!" Wood bellowed, "I told you, time and again, to search for the Snitch yourself, you lazy, underproductive, gullible imbecile!"

Harry almost smirked but Alicia Spinet's moaning from the nasty fall made him feel a twinge of guilt. That guilt fell away to mirth when the thirteen-year-old girl smacked the back of Williams' head.

Harry's broom bucked unexpectedly. He glanced down at his broom, wondering if he'd imagined it. It bucked again, and again, and again, until it was deliberately trying to shove Harry off. The broom rose higher when Harry tried to lower himself closer to the ground. All that Harry could do was hold on for dear life.

After several minutes, the Beaters of each team noticed the Nimbus' erratic behavior. The gentle giants, Bole and Derrick, called out to Flint what was happening and placed themselves bellow Harry in the event that he fell they would be able to catch him. Shocking everyone, including their own team, the Weasley twins also abandoned their posts to get Harry. As soon as one twin got near him, the broom danced away and got higher into the air, bucking like a wild bronco with an unwanted rider. Jordan was swearing up a storm, demanding who had done that, while McGonagall was petrified and Hooch attempted damage control.

In the stands, Jasper could have sworn, as impossible as it sounded, that he'd lost ten years of his life watching that broom trying to buck Harry off at those heights.

"It's bewitched!" Daphne yelped.

"No shit," Cynthia, Blaise, and Morag said.

Morag had her binoculars out, instead of looking at the players like before, she was franticly looking among the stands to see if anyone looked suspicious. Cynthia had her wand out and did a point-me spell, only for the imprecise location to confuse it. Lacking that, Cynthia pushed her way to the front along with Blaise. If all else failed, they'd have to catch Harry with a levitation spell or place the strongest cushioning charms underneath him.

Jasper couldn't use his empathy, the emotions were too strong that finding anyone with malicious intent among the terror would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. Instead, he was using his enhanced sight to look for someone suspicious like Morag, only he had a particular individual in mind.

Daphne joined Cynthia and Blaise in pushing to the front when all of a sudden Dymphana growled and jumped from her girl's arms. "Dymphana, what—" Daphne didn't get a chance to finish as her kneazle disappeared among the student body.

Jasper's eyes found Quirell and snarled. The bastard's mouth might have been closed but his eyes were trained on Harry with a concentrated intensity. Just as Jasper was about to rush towards Quirell, Dymphana sprung from out of nowhere and latched herself to Quirell's face. She scratched and bit at him until blood ran from his face and he grabbed her to throw her off, until "_Incarcerous._"

The ropes were tight enough that Quirell had trouble breathing, much to Jasper's sadistic delight. It didn't take long for the rest of the stands to notice what had happened nor to discern that Harry's broom _mysteriously_ stopped trying to kill him. 'I take back anything I've said about that cat,' Jasper thought.

"You dirty, piece of—" Daphne took out her wand and was about to fire the nastiest thing she could think of, when Snape's wand all but shoved itself in front of Quirell's bloody scarred-up face, "I do believe, _Professor_ Quirell, that you and I need to have a little chat."

Snape all but bodily hauled Quirell out of the stadium. Good thing too, full or not, Jasper had been more than tempted to break that son of bitch's neck for cursing Harry's broom, the blood only lowered his already slight inhibitions. Although, this only meant that he'd have to find another opportunity to permanently eliminate the threat. Preferably somewhere dark, with enough room to erase the evidence, and without witnesses.

"The Hell?" Jordan swore, "Did everyone see that? _Quirell_, of all people, cursed Potter's broom?! The fuck!?! What the fuck is wrong with him, I mean, we've had our fair share of weird Defense Professors but this is bordering on homicide!!"

McGonagall didn't say a word about Jordan's mouth, for once. She looked like she wanted to march to where Snape had taken Quirell and tear the bald man limb from limb.

Harry exhaled in relief when his broom stopped bucking. He regained a stronger grip of his broom, swung his legs back and then to the front so that he flipped and stopped, holding his arms down on the broom like a gymnast holding herself upright on the uneven bars. He swung his right leg over his Nimbus and almost regained his starting position but lost his arm strength momentarily enough to plummet to the ground.

Amidst exclamations of surprise, Harry controlled the reins enough to reach out to the gold flash to his left. He then grabbed hold of the front and tried pulling back. When that didn't work, Harry instead flattened himself and went with the flow. He flew to the ground at high speeds and just as he was 5 feet close to the grass… he turned with all of his strength and managed to avoid collision with the ground.

At the last second, Harry's lost his grip and his arms were already shaking, so he fell off. Thankfully, with barely 3 feet between him and the earth, Harry came out of it with only a few bruises and held the Snitch upwards.

"Godric's balls!" Jordan breathed, "Harry Potter got the Snitch. Slytherin wins."

He didn't have to sound like Harry had kicked his beaten puppy.

It didn't take long before he was surrounded by green and silver with every one of his teammates ascertaining that he was, indeed, alive and breathing.

Red and gold joined the fray as the Weasley twins also tried to get a glimpse of Harry.

"Really, I'm fine, just lost strength in my arms at the wrong moment," Harry tried to placate them.

"Fine my arse," Montague snarked, "You are not fine if you were almost indirectly maimed by a professor."

"HARRY!" Daphne screeched as she pushed her way to him. She then threw her arms around him and started babbling about how she was glad he was alright and that Quirell had better have his will ready.

"Now that is something," Fred couldn't help but tease, "When was the last time we had a pretty bird fuss over us like that?"

"Don't remember, dear brother," George played along, "Perhaps if we gained a severe enough injury, our dearest lady-teammates would lovingly nurse us."

"I wouldn't count on it," Derrick commented wryly, "They'd more likely hit you over the head for scaring them."

"Which we will do if you don't let us through," Morag's usually monotone voice held a frustrated lilt.

Parting to let his friends see him, the Slytherin team began to give Harry his needed space.

Jasper's eyes rove over Harry's frame, looking for any wounds and, more importantly, cuts.

Blaise interrupted when Dymphana escaped from his quivering arms and rubbed herself to Harry's side, "How in Salazar's beard do you manage carry her everywhere?" The kneazle had to weight at least 20 pounds, minimum.

Daphne muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "wimp" to Harry's hair. Jasper fell to his knees and, after a moment's hesitation, held onto Harry's hand. Cynthia grabbed his other free hand.

"Thank you," Morag said to the twins, "For trying to catch him."

It was abrupt and awkward but heartfelt.

"He's our brother's age," Fred started.

"How could we not," George finished.

Harry felt strange. It wasn't a bad feeling just different. After a lifetime of indifference, contempt, and neglect, Harry was unsure how to react to so much worry over his wellbeing. He was even awkward about Flint's pragmatic fretting over a useful member of the team. He was needed. More importantly, he was wanted.

His team didn't have to trouble themselves so much now that they knew he was alright enough to keep playing. But they mostly did.

Fred and George didn't have to try to save him when he was the opposing team's Seeker. But they did.

Morag didn't have to send her gratitude to the twins on his behalf and start a conversation when she was socially discomfited. But she did.

Blaise didn't have to stain his expensive clothes by carrying an unusually affectionate Dymphana and getting kneazle hairs on his robes. But he did.

Cynthia didn't have to hold his hand as though he'd disappear. But she did.

Daphne didn't have to hug him like a mother would hug her hurt and scared child. But she did.

And Jasper… Jasper didn't have to hold his hand tightly, or make sure he was alright before touching him, or try to keep him calm with his powers, or rub his thumb over his hand in an attempt to sooth. But he did.

"We're getting you to the infirmary," Jasper's Major voice booked no argument, "Now."

As if they all came to a telepathical-agreement, something Harry was quasi certain they couldn't do, Bole and Derrick gripped him under his armpits and lifted him to Bole's left and Derrick's right shoulder when Cynthia, Daphne, and Jasper let go of him.

"There," Cynthia smirked, "Now you can't escape a much needed medical check-up."

Harry opened his mouth to protest but clicked it shut at the glares he received from Blaise, Cynthia, Daphne, Jasper, Morag, the Weasley twins, his team, and even Dymphana!

With a defeated sigh, Harry allowed himself to be (unnecessarily) carried off to the scowling Poppy Pomfrey. As much as the independent survivor in him protested against others having such control over his choices, Harry still couldn't help but feel touched by the forcefully nice gesture.

Gazing at the first years walking ahead of Bole and Derrick, Harry smiled at the people that were becoming more precious to him as the days went by.

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Poppy Pomfrey had seen many things during her career as a school nurse. From broken bones, to poisoned students, to war-torn children who'd killed in self-defense, to simple bruises and flues, she'd seen it all. Sadly enough, that also meant that she had treated her fair share of abuse cases as well.

Harry Potter was not her worst case, thank the spirits. No, that spot was reserved for a little boy who, upon the first sign of magic, was locked up in a dark room, never allowed out of there, flogged and sprayed with supposed 'holy water' daily, called a 'minion of Hell' by his own degenerate parents who insisted they were 'trying to turn him good because they _loved_ him', and was even 'exorcised' (or tortured as Poppy called it) by an equally depraved priest.

The little boy would never have entered Hogwarts if it hadn't been for Hagrid. The new half-giant Groundskeeper had said, as an afterthought, that perhaps some muggleborn students didn't respond back to the school not from lack of interest, but because they and their parents thought it a practical joke. The then Headmaster Armando Dippet had only taken action of that thoughtless sentence only because Dumbledore had insisted on it.

Poppy had been dispatched along with the regular and new Professors. When the Headmaster had decided to humor Dumbledore 'and his pet project' it was mid-going-to-late August, they had 20 muggleborns to scope out and needed all the man-power they could spare. She had been chosen to persuade the little boy to go to Hogwarts.

When she introduced herself, she had almost been attacked by the deranged father, the mother stood back with clasped hands, while the innocent son was still locked in the dark room eating his small morsel of bread.

Poppy, not understanding the state of affairs at first, had decided to defuse the situation by letting the paranoid parents cool off. Her instincts told her to talk to the son alone so she locked both parents in a tiny closet with a simple locking charm. She had only started Healing then, fresh from her Apprenticeship from Saint Mungo's. That day, she had lost her childlike naiveté.

Huddled there, had been a boy with bloodied whip-marks across his back, emaciated to the point that she could have sworn she was seeing a skeleton, and he was soaking wet. He was trembling from the cold and had flinched when a flash of light from the corridor neared his face, obviously unused to anything outside the damp and obscure room.

The only thing that kept her from uttering the Killing Curse at those waste of human flesh and oxygen had been the boy's sobbing about how he 'hadn't wanted to be evil.' She couldn't do that to him, prove those monsters right by killing them. So she had added the most powerful locking charm she knew and added a silencing charm to the closet. 'Let those bastards starve and rot,' she had thought before collecting the boy and taking him immediately to Saint Mungo's.

He hadn't attended Hogwarts that year or the three others after that. His Mind Healer and General Healer, and Poppy herself, had even been reluctant to let him go on what would have been his fifth year, but he had insisted that he needed to live as normal a life as possible. Anything less would have been letting his parents win. He had gone to Hogwarts with permission to leave class if he ever started to feel uncomfortable and daily stops at Mungo's for check-ups and therapy. Even to this day, he continued his therapy sessions.

Poppy had been suspicious when the boy, who had changed his name to cut the last ties with his progenitors (as he had become a ward of Hogwarts), had asked for news on his old hometown when he was seventeen. The entire block had been razed by Death Eaters and his parents were among the deceased. She had never said anything, even understood him somewhat, but she had idealistically hoped that their annihilation had fought off some of his demons. It hadn't, but it had brought him momentary peace and those monsters could no longer hurt anyone again, if nothing else. He still fought his demons, even today.

That was why, if Poppy got so much as a whiff that something was not right with the domestic life of a child, she bared her fangs and tried her damndest to get the child out of there. Perhaps Jasper had sensed that in her, as he had been dropping hints to her for weeks about Harry.

Harry was good at lying by omission and changing the subject, but he was hardly the best liar Poppy had ever met. It was obvious to see that his malnourishment was not self-imposed or a diet that consisted of junk food. Harry had been, for all intents and purposes, deprived of food. His reactions to certain gestures or phrases, his independence and subtle distrust of adults… how could Albus and the rest of the staff not notice the signs?!

"Madam Pomfrey?" Harry interrupted her train of thought. He had a knowing look in his eyes and had an anticipatory edge of disappointment in it. It was almost as though he expected her to do nothing about his mistreatment. Poppy's lips tightened at the implication.

"It truly is a pity that fatal accidents don't usually happen to deserving people," she mumbled. Harry blinked, squashing the hope he knew would start to build up soon.

Poppy didn't blame him. It had been one thing for the boy who now went by the name Raoul Urquhart to become a full-time resident at Hogwarts whenever he hadn't been at Mungo's. Raoul's had been a heartbreaking early life, yes, but he hadn't had everyone's eye on him like Harry did. The scandal and bad press against muggles would be disastrous, something that Albus, she knew, would never allow. It would give the pureblood supremacists just the excuse to start a strong, visible campaign against muggles with the support of everyone else. Poppy could just see how it would go: the general public would be outraged at what that pile of hippogriff dung family (no offence meant to the poor hippogriffs) had done to their savior, then they would think 'muggles did this,' in which case the media paid by certain rich purebloods would manipulate that thought to say 'all muggles are like that.' No, that wouldn't work at all.

But she couldn't let Harry go back to the useless animals he was living with either! Poppy tried to think of a solution. There had to be a reason, one pertaining to the war, as to why Harry ended up with the racist Dursleys. Otherwise, it wouldn't make any sense. Albus would only turn a blind-eye to something of this nature if it was Ragnarok detrimental; after all, Ariana's attack still haunted him. But what importance could Harry's placement at the Dursleys' signify?

If the only thing that kept Harry from being cared for by Remus Lupin had been the law that stated werewolves couldn't adopt, then Harry would have been legally adopted by Augusta Longbottom while Remus unofficially raised him.

Or even Raoul could have done a similar arrangement what with Augusta dealing with the loss of Frank and Alice. After all, Poppy recalled how Raoul and his un-Registered werewolf husband, Lucas Chadwick, had helped Remus after the Potters' deaths and Sirius Black's imprisonment. With just a glance at the Dursleys, Poppy was certain that Raoul would have moved the Sky, the Sea, and the Earth to keep Harry away from them.

But that wasn't something that could have stopped Albus, so why?

If Albus was worried about Harry growing up in the limelight and growing arrogant or developing problems because of it, Hestia Jones had offered to take little Harry in after she had moved to Australia when she found out she was pregnant. Voldemort's reign of terror had only encompassed most of Europe, so the Australians would have mostly left him alone, unless if there were the occasional Spell-Smith or Researcher that wanted to study how he had survived the _Killing Curse_ of all things. But that could have been remedied with a temporary change of identity and maybe appearance. Harry had been a baby then, how hard could it have been to pass him off as someone else's child? Especially since Hestia had a somewhat similar hair color and style as James Potter.

That path could have easily been chosen. Remus was all for packing his bags and moving, but Albus had, for no reason, vetoed the idea. So, the question was, if Albus had all of these choices, why did he bloody well put Harry in those beasts' care?

"Mr. Potter," Poppy started cautiously, "you might be fine, for now, however, I strongly suggest you eat some more. A bit more weight might do you some good. And be sure not to overexert yourself, alright?" Seeing him nod, she then continued, "Could you tell Mr. Whitlock to come? I need to re-evaluate something about an old illness of his."

His eyes narrowed, almost as though he knew that there was more to Jasper than that, but he nodded, said his thanks, and left to join his friends.

When Jasper entered, Poppy automatically closed the privacy illusion curtains and handed him a blood packet. Jasper took it and started drinking.

"I'm sure you must be starving after _Quirell's_," she spat his name in disgust, "little injury."

Jasper finished drinking in record time and said, "That wasn't the only reason you called me here, was it." It wasn't a question.

"I'm currently woolgathering," the ex-Hufflepuff started, "So I'll apologize in advance if I am insensitively blunt. You've been living alone since your parents died am I right?" Already, the idea was taking shape.

Jasper was lucky he wasn't still drinking, otherwise he would have choked on the blood at the random question. "Um, yes?" said Jasper, flummoxed.

It was risky, Awn, it was even dangerous, but it was the best she had to work with. "You know, Mr. Whitlock, while there are spells designed to keep track of students' usage of magic, particularly those that live in the muggle world, there are none that do the same for vampire powers," Poppy stared at Jasper, "In fact, curiously enough, a vampire could live in a muggle's house and break bones, drink blood, and no one in the Ministry would be the wiser."

Yes, that would have to do. From what she'd heard from Minerva, the Dursleys were overgrown bullies but cowardly ones. The threat of a vampire, even a child one, breaking their skulls or drinking them dry of blood should be more than enough to scare them into treating Harry like a living being.

There were only two snags to her plan: 1) she wasn't sure if Jasper was loyal enough to place himself in that kind of danger and kill for his friend, and 2) if Albus would allow it.

"Are you saying," Jasper said while looking at her as though she were an unknown magical creature, "that I should go live with Harry, threaten his relatives to leave him alone, and nothing's going to happen because it will only be my vampirism, which is untraceable, that I'll use?"

"I do realize what I am asking is unethical," Poppy said, "However, I'm sure you've noticed how far-reaching Harry's fame is. Pureblood supremacists could use the Dursleys to start a successful campaign against muggles."

"That's where I come in," Jasper nodded, "This is the only way you know to protect Harry without compromising the muggles' already tenuous position in this world."

Sometimes, Poppy got the sensation that Jasper Whitlock was a man trapped in a boy's body.

"And you want to know if I'm willing to do it," Jasper stated.

"Will you?" Poppy asked.

Jasper furrowed his brow, then said, "You do realize that the second one of them hits Harry is the same second I'll lose control?"

"It's not as though they wouldn't have it coming," Poppy shrugged, "The only one I would spare is young Dudley, he's still a child and deserves the chance to make something of himself… But the rest, honestly, you'd be doing the world a favor if you did kill them."

She shouldn't say such words to an eleven-year-old, but she just couldn't see Jasper as a child. Maybe his parents' deaths had aged him, maybe his vampirism had done the maturing, whatever it was, he couldn't be classified as a child. Her instincts told her that this boy in front of her was a fighter. One that _wouldn't_ hesitate to kill to get what he wanted.

Jasper hn-ed, his eyes gleaming with respect for Poppy, "I'm not promising anything except that I'll keep Harry safe."

"That's all I can ask," Poppy sighed, "I realize that I've been Machiavellian in this instance and you are a child yourself but—"

"Ma'am, with all due respect," Jasper smiled, "I haven't been anything so much as resembling a child in so long."

"Even so… what I am asking you to do is an adult's job," Poppy scowled to herself. Even though there weren't any adults willing or able to do this job with _only_ Harry's interests in mind.

"And I will gladly do it," Jasper said, "When someone becomes precious to you, you do everything in your power to protect them. That's something I should have learned a long time ago."

Poppy got that feeling again, that Jasper was older than he looked. But that was impossible, vampires (natural or turned as children) aged normally until they reached their thirties or twenties. Jasper could not be as old as he was alluding. Poppy mentally shook her head; she couldn't say anything anyways not after he had tricked her into an Oath of Silence about anything said in confidence. Sneaky little bugger.

"If that's your final decision," Poppy forcefully squashed down the rising guilt. It was the right thing to do, the only thing she could do since Remus wasn't allowed near the Dursleys as that idiot Fudge – how was he still Minister, really? – used the excuse of him once being close to Sirius Black to make him seem dangerous around Harry. Fudge had tried to get custody of Harry in order to place him in a wizarding home of his choice, what better way to have the Boy-Who-Lived under his thumb than to have him raised by Fudge-supporters? Poppy shuddered in disgust at the thought.

"It is," Jasper was resolute.

"Don't say anything to Potter just yet, I don't want to needlessly crush his hopes _if_ it doesn't work," Poppy said as she opened the curtains and headed for the fireplace in her private office, "I'll talk to the Headmaster and I'll make sure he agrees."

After all, considering that no one besides Raoul and herself knew of Lucas' lycanthropy, no one could use that little piece of information as blackmail. As far as Albus was concerned, Lucas was a muggle secretary who happened to be aware of magic since he was Raoul's lover.

If her demands weren't met and Harry wasn't safe, she'd let Raoul have at it. He'd have no qualms taking this to the press in order to remove Harry from the Dursleys. Albus would have no choice but to let Jasper live at the Dursley residence and keep those muggles in line with the threat of death.

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An interesting tidbit about the Hogwarts Houses is that they don't all function the same way. Sure, the ambiences and environments are all different, but there are also small details that further differentiate the Houses.

For one thing, they all have different bathroom systems. Yes, something embarrassing like the loo might seem insignificant; however, a working private loo is a commodity that many take for granted.

Any Gryffindor or Ravenclaw or unlucky Hufflepuff with unhygienic loo-mates could testify to that.

Every bathroom in Gryffindor was divided by year and sex, for example, all Gryffindor first year girls shared the same loo, and so on and so forth.

The luckless Ravenclaws had smaller distinctions; there were two bathrooms for the entire House, one for males and the other for females. We can all just imagine the daily fights there.

The Hufflepuffs had more good fortune in that department, two or three people shared the same bathroom per year and sex.

Meanwhile, the Slytherins were hated with an unending passion by all of the informed members of the other Houses. Why? Because every single Slytherin magically acquired his or her own bathroom.

Nevertheless, every privilege has its prize. While the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws never had to worry about cleaning up their gigantic restrooms thanks to House-Elves, the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins had no such luck. Helga and Salazar had magically forbidden the House-Elves from cleaning up their students' bathrooms. If they wanted more privacy they'd have to learn to clean up after their own messes and learn some self-responsibility.

So that was why, one foggy November Saturday evening, a very mortified Blaise with a visible blush on his dark cheeks whispered to Harry, "Is your loo clean?"

Harry stilled, then he rubbed the inside of his ears with a finger, surely he had heard wrong, right? "Huh?"

"Is. Your. Loo. Clean." Blaise managed to snarl while whispering.

"Yes~."

"Can I please use yours?" Blaise was on the verge of begging.

"Y-yeah, you can use it," Harry gaped at him, "um, but, uh, _why_?"

"Do I look like the type of person who cleans up after himself, in the loo at that?" Blaise deadpanned.

"Fair enough," Harry nodded, "D'you know where it is?"

Blaise nodded frantically with an uncharacteristic beam on his face. "Try not to make too much of a mess," no, that was not a whine, it was a reasonable request considering Blaise's track record.

Harry sat down next to Jasper and Cynthia as soon as Blaise rushed to Harry's restroom, "What are you two studying for, Charms?"

"Somewhat," Cynthia mumbled while pouring over a thick tome, "Just not the ones we usually learn in class."

Harry cocked his head.

Jasper scowled, looking like wanted to rip the pages, "There's got to be something here about those damned spots!"

"Spots?" Harry asked him.

"Yes, there's been some yellowish-brown spots appearing on my shower wall," Jasper clenched his teeth.

"You too?" Cynthia glanced at him in shared sympathy.

"Is that what you're looking for?" Jasper held out some hope, "Any luck?"

"That's not my primary concern right now," Cynthia looked away, flushing red, "I've got, um, a bit of, well you know, err, um, an overflow problem," she whispered almost inaudibly.

"Oh," Jasper didn't quite know how to answer to that.

"Sounds like you both have gained some mould in the showers," Harry said clinically, "It's a common enough occurrence when you don't clean them at least once a week."

"They do?" Cynthia and Jasper chorused while looking at their new, cute, almighty savior.

"I'm going to take a guess, there's more than just 'a couple' of spots in your showers, right?" for some odd reason, neither one could quite manage to look him in the eye, "What, have you both grown-up among housekeepers or something?"

'Slaves, actually,' Jasper winced. "A housewife mother, actually," Cynthia said in a low voice.

Harry sighed, "And your 'problem,' how bad is it?"

"Do you want the standard answer or the more detailed one?" Cynthia buried her head on her arms.

"That bad?" Cynthia grunted.

"Okay," Harry said, "It's in the girls' side, right?"

"Yes," Cynthia groaned at the thought of her restroom.

"Too bad I can't go in there—"

"What for?" Cynthia started.

"To clean up your loo," Harry said, "Even if you do start cleaning now, it won't do you any good. You need some heavy-duty cleaning-up before your loo is at manageable levels, and only then will you—"

"Who do I have to kill!?" Cynthia roared, "Is it Quirell? He might have gotten away with that 'I was only giving my old House an advantage,' but if you want I know some dark places to hide the body!"

"You do?" Jasper was genuinely interested.

"That's not—"

"No? What do you need, money, sex?"

"NO! None of that," Harry scrambled to stop her, "Yeesh, can't I do a favor for a friend without anyone assuming I'm after something?"

"You're in Slytherin, Harry, 'nuff said" Cynthia pointed out.

"How about this," Harry started, "I'm offering to do this for all of you because sooner or later you are all going to use mine like Blaise is and leave it a right mess."

"Oh, if that's the case, I'm sure we can find a way to subvert the wards," Cynthia said with a very sweet smile, "Is there anything in particular you want for Yule?"

The dorm entrance opened with Daphne and Morag rushing in. They plopped down next to the trio. Jasper's eyes watered, "When was the last time you bathed?" he asked Morag.

Morag opened her mouth, then closed it, furrowing her brow in thought, "A… week I believe?"

"That long?" Daphne breathed.

"I'd probably get even dirtier in my washroom than from abstaining to shower," Morag intoned.

"What about the unused female Quidditch baths?" Cynthia asked, "Daphne and I've been making do with them."

"At what time?" Morag asked.

"Six or so in the morning, when no one's awake," Daphne said, "What? It's not against the rules to go outside too early and it's the only way I've got time to wash my hair!"

"And you both asked me why I'm willing to do this," Harry wryly said.

Blaise came out of the first years boys' dorm refreshed in his dark gray nightwear with a towel on his neck. "Thanks, mate," he smiled.

"No problem," Harry shrugged.

"Harry, my sweet, adorable, little love," Daphne simpered, "May I—"

"Go ahead," he didn't even let her finish. Harry all of a sudden had difficulty breathing as Daphne squeezed the life out of him while planting platonic kisses all over his face. "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, Harry-love!"

"You're… welcome," Harry tried to breathe.

"Harry, I really hate to impose, but I've got to ask," Cynthia said blushing, "Could I use it too? For the, um, you know, other—"

"So long as you don't make a mess, sure," Harry had already anticipated this, "You two are also welcome to use it," he told Jasper and Morag.

"Are you certain, Harry?" Jasper asked, "It's only a bit of… mould, was it? I haven't a problem using my own."

"Jasper, if you haven't cleaned your loo since the start of the term, then your shower most definitely has more than 'a bit of mould,'" Harry snarked.

"At least yours doesn't have flies," Morag said sullenly.

"Flies?" Harry gaped, "That's it, we're going to have to get over the wards to the girls' dorms." It would take a lot of time, but surely it couldn't be half as bad as Vernon, Marge, and Dudley Dursley's muddles. After all, Harry had to constantly clean up after two, sometimes three, eternal slobs at Privet Drive. It wasn't a big deal.

"You don't have to do this," Jasper brushed his fingers over Harry's.

"No big deal," Harry shrugged, "At least once they're properly cleaned up, you lot can keep them that way with spells."

Jasper didn't blush bright red like the rest only because he couldn't. Morag just muttered something about "waste of time."

"Where are the House-Elves!?" Malfoy stormed from the boys' dorms with Crabbe and Goyle trailing behind him, "Of all the lazy, useless, vile little creatures! I've ordered them, time and again, to clean up the washrooms, but they listen? NO! Stupid, defective—"

The passing older years snickered. One group that was studying on the tables away from Harry's friends seemed to take out a camera, but Harry couldn't be certain.

"Potter!" Malfoy addressed him imperiously, "Your restroom, open it, now!"

"Dirty people have very little influence in society," Cynthia didn't even look at him.

"You would know all about that, wouldn't you Moon," Malfoy spat, "After all, you're just a dirty mudblood!"

"Shut up, Malfoy!" Harry growled, "At least we all know Cynthia gets everything she wants out of pure talent and smarts instead of her father's money, unlike _some_ people I could mention."

"At least I have a father, Scarhead," Malfoy bit out. Crabbe and Goyle were stood to their full heights, grunting.

"That still doesn't change the fact that you're a talentless little boy who hides behind daddy's robes," Cynthia smiled, eyes cold.

"Malfoy," Daphne simpered, "Either you get lost or I'll tell Dymphana to play with your balls, with claws."

That gave them pause.

Jasper didn't say a word, he didn't have to. His glare was more than enough to intimidate Crabbe, Goyle, and even the arrogant Malfoy. Blaise was gripping Harry and Daphne's shoulders, as both looked ready to start giving out black eyes.

Morag, to the untrained eye, ignored the confrontation in favor of chewing on a Sugar Quill. So, when she spoke, many jumped in surprise, "Only someone of great power could survive whatever the Headmaster put on the third floor," she then glanced at Malfoy and gave a dismissive tilt of her chin, "I sincerely doubt Malfoy would last five seconds without running."

"Oh, really?" Malfoy sneered, "And I suppose you will last longer, oh great bastard of the House of McDougal? Or how about the black sheep of the Potter family? Yes, I can see where he would gain power, from the utter disappointment from his dead muggle-loving parents."

Jasper let out a growl and made to stand up but Harry beat him to it by shrugging Blaise's hand off his shoulder and stomping towards Malfoy. Crabbe and Goyle were about to pummel him but a glaring Jasper and a hissing Daphne stood behind Harry. Blaise and Cynthia stood behind them, wands ready. Morag merely looked bored with the proceedings with only her dominant hand twitching to suggest otherwise.

"If you're so sure Malfoy," Harry fisted his hand, he didn't think that punching Malfoy would be a good idea but it would feel damn good, "Why don't we all go and check, we'll see who'll last longer."

To his surprise, Jasper clasped his hand on Harry's elbow, "Don't, he's not worth your life." Unlike his child classmates, Jasper knew a real death threat when he heard one. Dumbledore might have been an eccentric, borderline barmy old codger, but he was not bluffing when he warned the students to avoid the third floor.

"Never took you for a coward, Whitlock. I suppose it's to be expected of a mudblood," Malfoy was either extraordinarily brave, incredibly proud, or exceptionally stupid.

"Now really, Draco," Blaise said amicably, how much of it was sincere was a toss up, "You should know better than to recklessly put your life in danger to satisfy your pride. Wouldn't want to be known as the Gryffindor of the bunch, would you?"

Malfoy scoffed, "Then how do we settle this? A duel?" He then smirked, "Why not? Or is ickle baby Potter too scared?"

He was met with a fist to his nose. Crabbe was immediately punched by Daphne and Goyle was paralyzed by Jasper's headlock.

"_Densaugeo_," Malfoy sent a curse at Harry. Harry ducked, as did Cynthia, and it hit a mirror Morag took out. Thanks to her aim, it sailed towards Jasper and Goyle, Jasper immediately let go and stepped away, leaving Goyle to the teeth enlargement curse. "_Petrificus Totalus,_" Cynthia finished the downed Goyle.

Daphne was about to punch Crabbe when Millicent joined the fray by grabbing her hair and forcing her away from Crabbe. Crabbe was about to stand up when, "_Locomotor Mortis_," Blaise hit him with a leg-locker curse. Crabbe fell down face first.

Feeling the childish emotions filling the room, Jasper opted to stay out of the fight now that the mini-bodyguards were indisposed. Wincing, Jasper hoped that none of the girls drew blood when they scratched each other. Daphne and Millicent seemed to forget they were witches and were punching and pulling each others' hair, trying to get the other into a headlock. Meanwhile, Cynthia and Pansy were clawing at each other, wands forgotten.

Harry and Draco, on the other hand, were duking it out with their wands. Draco somehow had leeks falling out of his ears and was wincing every time he moved his head. Harry, on the other hand, had lost his ability to dodge due to his legs independently dancing.

Blaise was keeping an eye on Crabbe and Goyle, making certain they couldn't rejoin the… well, 'duel' was too formal and generous a word…

Theodore Nott and Tracey Davis just looked at their fellow first years as thought they were idiots.

Morag had left her post and was talking to an older year as though her friends weren't fighting with the gits of their year.

Draco gritted his teeth and hurled a "_Diffindo_," at Harry. Harry, having no way to dodge, just said the first spell on his mind, "_Reflexio!_" The reflecting spell sent the cutting curse elsewhere, it was about to hit Daphne until, "Watch out!"

Daphne pushed Millicent in front of her and the spell slashed at Millicent's hair above Daphne's grip. Millicent paused, staring in horror at the long, curly, coffee colored tresses on Daphne's hand. Daphne used the opportunity to take out her wand and "_Stupefy_" her. Millicent fell to the carpeted ground unconscious, her mouth split in an "o" of dismay.

"10 galleons says she'll break Malfoy's neck in a week," a girl with a purple bow holding her hip-length hair back said.

"But wasn't Greengrass the one that made it so the spell cut her hair?" a lithe older boy with a crooked nose scratched his head.

"What about Potter's charm?" a girl with dangling earrings bigger than her ears rebutted.

Paying no heed to their spectators, Daphne marched up to where Cynthia and Pansy were attempting to scrape each others' faces off. She grabbed on to both ends of the long strands and grabbed on to the front Pansy's throat with it. Forcing her to walk backwards, Daphne then tugged enough for Pansy to fall. Letting go of the hair, Daphne punched Pansy's cheek. Taking no chances, Cynthia followed with a "_Stupefy_."

Harry, who had used the distraction to dispel the dancing legs jinx, rushed towards Draco then dodged to the left. He kept on ducking and dodging Draco's spells until he shouted "_Expelliarmus!_" Draco dodged the attack and smirked but then a red light hit him from behind, causing his wand to go flying to Harry's outstretched hand.

The dorm was filled with silence. "What in Salazar's name?!" Draco gaped.

Harry smirked then, resembling every inch the Slytherin he was, "It's called making use of the area," he pointed behind Draco. Sure enough, there was a mirror hanging on the wall.

"Of course," Blaise chuckled, "Harry knew Draco would dodge so he prompted to attack him from behind using the mirror from the very beginning. Smart move."

Draco was about to snarl until Harry pointed his wand at him, "_Finite Incantatem_," the leeks stopped coming out of Draco's ears.

"All right people," Athanasia Pyrites, the 5th year prefect, clapped her hands to get everyone's attention, "Now that the firsties' little show is done, let's get back to our preceding business before light's out in two hours' time, shall we?"

Everyone else dispersed, the entertainment was over for the older years and it seemed that Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson had lost their public position as the firsties' Prince and Princess.

Harry tossed Draco his wand back, perplexing the blond. Following his example, Cynthia revived Pansy and Millicent. To many people's shock (and the girl with the purple bow's delight), instead of going after Daphne or Harry, Millicent marched towards Draco and gave him a shiner, "Jerk!" She hurried to her dorm with what Harry remorsefully suspected were tears falling down her cheeks. Daphne also winced in what could have been sympathy.

With Draco somewhat subdued, Harry took the opportunity to cancel the leg-locker on Crabbe and the full body-bind on Goyle. Surprisingly, the grotesquely large teeth did not disappear. Athanasia, seeing the small predicament, checked her watch and took Goyle's elbow, "Come on, Madam Pomfrey should still be out and about. We'll just tell her it was accidental spell-damage," she led him out of the commons to the entrance, escorting him to the infirmary.

Seeing that there was only Crabbe left to protect them, Pansy and Draco wisely decided to retreat to their dorms. Theodore and Tracey just looked at each other, and then left elsewhere.

Harry sank down on the couch next to Jasper with a weary sigh, hesitating a bit before letting his head fall on Jasper's shoulder. Blaise, Cynthia, and Daphne also sank into the couch. Morag, on the other hand, all but hopped towards them, "I suppose tomorrow would be possible to start clean-up," she commented as though nothing had happened.

Harry stared at her blankly, until he remembered what they were all talking about previous to the brawl, "Huh? Oh, sure, yes… but I'll need at least three days minimum if I'm doing all of them."

Morag smiled, "Then Daphne, Cynthia and myself will get first priority tomorrow."

Blaise bristled, "Oh? And why is that, pray tell?" Jasper twitched at the demand as well.

Morag surreptitiously pointed at a sixth year boy, "Because I only managed to wager a day for Blatch to transfigure Harry into a girl."

Denholme Blatch was a sixth-year Transfiguration wiz, if anyone could successfully do a human transfiguration, it was him. However, he was also known as something of a gambler, with atrocious luck at that. "Wager?" Cynthia raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, with Crabbe and Goyle out of commission," said Morag, "I calculated there was a 78 percent chance of you lot winning, even without Jasper's aid."

Silence.

"Just out of curiosity," Harry gulped, "What would have happened if you had lost the bet?"

"You would have had to clean his part of the dorm and his loo," Morag uttered.

"Morag!" Daphne and Jasper growled simultaneously. "That's cold, even for you," Cynthia muttered. Blaise gaped at her.

"Well, you lot _did_ help me against Malfoy, least I could do," Harry was the only one that wasn't too bothered. As much as it bothered him that Morag had included him on the wager like that, he was also happy and somewhat smug she had that much trust in his and the rest's abilities.

"No risks, no gains," Morag nodded. "Although, it is a pity Malfoy didn't take the third floor bait. I'm sure the cerberus would have scared him into shutting his oversized gob for a day or two."

Beat.

…

"Wait," Cynthia choked, "Cerberus? As in the three-headed dog with a snake's tail that guarded the Underworld entrance, that Cerberus?" hysteria laced her voice, "And did you say 'the'? As in, there's more than one!?"

"Oh, yes, there is one on the third floor corridor. Didn't we tell you about that?" Daphne smiled.

The pregnant silence along with the incredulous glances were her answer.

"Yes, that must have been one of the causes of a nosy student's premature death. Wonder what they're hiding…" Morag mused.

"One of them?" Daphne was as puzzled as the rest.

"It was standing on a trap door," Morag said, "You would've noticed it as well if you weren't drooling over it."

"How could I not, it was soooo cute," Daphne gushed with hearts in her eyes, "I still say we shouldn't have left so abruptly, Morag! That poor little puppy must have felt so alone and hurt when we left. All it needs is a cuddle!"

Jasper was very happy that he wasn't a mind-reader. He didn't want to know and he was happy not knowing.

"Daphne," Blaise talked to her as though she were a very slow toddler, "It's a cerberus."

"So?" Daphne narrowed her eyes, "Does that make his feelings matter less? You believe me, don't you Harry?" she smiled was bright.

Harry, who had to suffer Ripper on Marge's visits as much as he had to endure the dog's mistress, really didn't know what to say. Although, Duster, the Nussbaums' German shepherd, was a complete darling and always scared Dudley and his gang away from Harry whenever he came near the Nussbaum house. Really, if this cerberus was as similar to dogs as kneazles were to cats like Dymphana, then… "It depends on how he was trained, I suppose. If he was trained to be an attack dog, I don't think it's a good idea to try to pet him."

"In which case, it's all the owner's fault," Daphne nodded as though it was definite fact.

"How did we get from bathrooms, to a brawl, to a cerberus in the third floor, to it being safe to _pet _said cerberus?" Cynthia croaked in astonishment.

"The beauties of conversational tangents," Morag ate another Sugar Quill.

"You do realize you'll have too much energy to sleep if you continue eating those," Blaise pointed out.

"Without any sugar in my system, I'll lose 57 percent of my cognitive powers," Morag said without losing her inscrutable expression.

"Speaking of sleep, we'll have to clear out all our loo stuff for tomorrow," Daphne said.

"But what about—"

"Harry, love, you're already going to much pains for us. The least we can do is make it easier for you by taking out our things," Daphne placated him.

'Actually, I was going to say what about the cerberus?' Harry thought wryly.

"I'll say it again, Harry," Jasper looked him in the eyes, "As kind a gesture it is, you don't have to do this, nor would any of us think any less of you if you don't."

'Right, just concentrate on what you know,' Jasper told himself. The cerberus wasn't any of his concern so long as he didn't go near the third floor… And kept animal-lover Daphne and Rubik's complex Morag away from it.

"And none of you had to stand up to Malfoy when he tried to boss me around," Harry said with a wan smile.

Jasper exhaled in defeat, Harry was too determined at this point to argue with. That didn't mean that he wouldn't help…

Cynthia nudged Jasper discreetly. Blaise's lips quirked, Morag eyes shifted from Harry to the rest, and Daphne almost blinded everyone with her smile.

Perhaps it was time for Harry's friends to pay Hagrid a visit. Surely the man knew where to find some of the Potter family's personal mementos.

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So, what do you lot think of the peanut gallery? Just kidding! I know there's not much Jasper/Harry one-on-one interraction, but I also wanted to explore how they would fare in a group. Does it feel like I'm not paying too much attention to him? Am I focusing too much on Blaise, Cynthia, Daphne, and Morag? I guess that since Harry was lonely as a kid, he would try to make as many friends as he can and keep them. I always felt in first year that Harry was still unsure of himself in regards to relationships and was willing to go to great lenghts to help his friends, almost as though he was saying "thank you for being my friend." Like Hagrid and the dragon egg, for example. In later years, he is more confident and prefers to stick to his real friends. I guess that I'm walking a thin line because the Harry from 1st year is different from the could have been 7th year one, since he and his companions do change as the books go on.

Oh, about the Raoul vignette, I was telling it from Poppy's point of view, hence all of the retelling and internalized questions. I realize it was more telling than showing but, I wanted Harry to have an adult ally that only has his interests in mind (without caring too much about the wizarding world). Dumbledore's concerned with the big picture (the "greater good") of the wizarding world, and if sacrificing a child's happiness and maybe psyche is what is needed to keep the WW relatively safe, he'd do it. Especially since he's always reminding himself of the last time he allowed personal feelings run loose (i.e. when he planned world domination with Grindelwald). Meanwhile, Remus cares about Harry and could be that adult, but there's not much he can do because of his lycanthropy and the laws that impede him from doing many things. I mean, if he's having a hard enough time keeping himself afloat because of his condition and a racist Ministry, he wouldn't be able to help Harry much on the home scale. Hence, I made Poppy have close contact with someone who (without necessarily having any close connections to him) would only have Harry's interests in mind, sod the Wizarding World! Since I can't take Harry out of the Dursleys, I'll just make sure a certain vampire keeps them in line (grins maniacally). I'm trying to convince myself I'm not looking for an excuse to off those despicable waste of flesh but...

Anyway, let me know what you all think. Good? Bad? Medium?


	5. How Flamel didn't steal Yule

Hey, everyone! I hope everyone's that still in school had a relatively enjoyable start of the school year. Okay, I'll give everyone the bad news first, I'm graduating (early) from university this year, so I'll have to put all of my energy into my thesis (which just so happens to be writing a novel). Also, whenever I'm not working on that, I'll be working on my homework for my six college courses (yeah, I know, too much) and applying to Grad school. So, as everyone can see, I'll be too busy to update on any of my fics before I graduate or so. It's a pain, but when isn't Real Life?

Now, I know that this story isn't much on the action, but I wanted to explore Harry&Jasper&Co in quasi-everyday life and their emotional aspects. Consider this a more slice of life bit of the fic. I re-read my other fic with Aiji, and I noticed that it had more everyday life interactions between the girls, so I wondered if maybe I was rushing GiAG. Let's see how it goes. I hope you lot like it.

The usual constructive criticism is greatly appreciated.

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Harry had a serious dilemma. So serious was it, that he fretted about it almost every free second he had. It was a stupid thing, he knew, but he couldn't help it. It was his first real Christmas, with real friends, and he had money to spend on gifts! Granted, only Jasper and Cynthia celebrated Christmas, but he was pretty Yule was also in the gift-giving business. Besides, it was the intent that counted, it wasn't like Harry would mind not getting a present from Daphne, Blaise, and Morag at this date if it wasn't....

Harry sighed, morosely kicking little rocks on the floor. That didn't solve much of his problem. How could he get his friends some presents if he couldn't leave the castle? As much as he saw some interesting broom and jewelry catalogues, it felt superfluous. As though Harry hadn't taken the time to get a meaningful gift for each of his friends that he knew they would appreciate and use. He didn't want to be like the Dursleys, who gave Dudley his toy du jour, regardless that said toy was discarded for the next big thing and Dudley would wail for hours until he was placated with a new gift. At the same time, Harry didn't want to take too long that it would be Christmas and he'd have no gifts. Oh no, he didn't want to be like Dudley either, his cousin just took any and all presents without giving anyone anything back, not even his parents.

Harry was so engrossed in his thoughts, that he almost didn't pay attention to his surroundings. However, years of living with the Dursleys had long since given him the ingrained instinct of keeping an eye out for others. So, when the Weasley twins, equally absorbed in their own conversation, were about to crash into him by turning the corner, Harry jumped back and skidded to the side on instinct. That did not go unnoticed by the redheads.

"Well, if it isn't Slytherin's"

"Most famous ickle snake"

"What, pray tell"

"Are you slithering about"

"All on your lonesome"

"At this time in the glorious afternoon?"

Harry shook his head side to side, trying to follow the rapid switch of speech and politely looking at the speaker. By this time, Harry wasn't even sure which was which.

"Um," Harry grunted, "Nothing much, just… thinking."

"About?" George grinned, "May we know what is troubling the oh so great savior?"

"Or are we mere mortals not privy to that?" Fred smiled in a way to let Harry know it was all in good humor.

Harry's previously frowning lips quirked up. "It's silly really," Harry hesitated, but he thought better of it. Weren't the twins notorious for sneaking things in and out of Hogwarts? Hmm… "You two are going to laugh," Harry grumbled.

"Ah, but laughter is such an essential necessity," George nodded, resembling a sage old man teaching his pupil about the meaning of life… if it weren't for the teasing grin on his face.

"Yes, 'tis so important, but so very neglected," Fred mock-swooned, "We need more of it before we feel the withdrawal effects!"

"So, ickle snake," George said with convincing solemnity, "Do you accept this important mission to give more laughter to the world?"

"Or, at least," Fred said as an afterthought, "Give us more reasons to laugh."

Harry let out a chuckle, "Well, when you put that way…" the twins grinned in triumph, "It's nothing," Harry said, "I'm just… worried about Christmas. See, this is my first Christmas with some friends and I… well, I wouldn't say I want to make it special as in I want to throw a party and make huge piles of Christmas cake and pudding… or maybe I could do that if I ever find the kitchens… eggnog too…" Harry babbled.

The twins blinked, Fred was about to interrupt but George subtly shook his head.

Harry noticed the blank looks on the redheads faces and blushed, "Sorry, I'm babbling aren't I?" he looked away, "Anyway, I… now that I have some money of my own, I want to get my friends something… meaningful, I suppose. And I just don't think that looking at catalogues and ordering from them is enough, you know? But, at the same time, I can hardly leave the castle, so…"

"I see," George said with a pensive frown. He and Fred glanced at one another, holding a silent exchange via identical blue eyes.

Decision reached, Fred asked, "What, exactly, are you looking for?"

Harry started, but said, "Ideally, I was thinking of getting something that involves horseback riding for Jasper, maybe tickets to a riding club," though where he would find one that was vampire friendly, he didn't even know where to ask, "Daphne's been wanting to go to this Jinx Park with her sister," from what he heard, it was a sort of wizarding version of an arcade, only that instead of electronic screens controlled with buttons and joysticks, they were made of enchantments and controlled by company wands, "Morag loves solving puzzles, mysteries, and the such, so I was thinking of getting her a book of cold cases, maybe a muggle one, she'd appreciate the challenge… Oh! And one Agatha Christie novel, say, _The Mysterious Affair at Styles_." Harry frowned, "Cynthia has been interested in wizarding culture, particularly in music, and I know Jasper's getting her a magical musical sheet player and an MMS of a popular band, so I was thinking about finding one of a singer that somewhat resembles Kylie Minogue, her more resent style that is," Harry mused, now talking to himself more than the twins, who by now sported blank looks of incomprehension, "I think it was Phoebe, or was it Phebe? Yeah, Phebe Wilcox, she sounded nice and I'm pretty sure Cynthia likes her, I'll get one of her and five more MMS of bands that I think she'll like," Harry started stroking his chin, eyes snapping to the twins, suddenly hesitant to add the last one, "Um, and I might need a ticket to the Hippocampus gemstone art showing and a book on different types of diamonds…"

Fred and George grinned, clearly by Harry's carefully neutral expression, he was hiding who it was for. Unfortunately for him, he'd been too distracted listing off his presents for each friend that he made it obvious by process of elimination who it was intended for. "So," Fred drawled, "Zabini wants to see an art gallery?"

"One that costs no more than five galleons?" George smirked, "Why couldn't he pay for it himself?"

"Unless, of course, it's one of those gifts you get for a person because they're too ashamed to get it themselves," Fred finished with aplomb.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of," Harry snapped, "It's just Blaise being an idiot about it."

"Oh?" George raised an eyebrow, "Do tell."

Harry gave them a look, as if to say 'you honestly think I'm going to rat out my friend?'

"Anything said in here, is said in confidentiality," George reassured, "It's a policy of ours with our in and out customers."

"Yep, bad for business if we didn't," Fred agreed.

Harry stared at them a little bit longer, measuring their sincerity, before he sighed, "It's just Blaise's idea of what a man should or shouldn't like. He thinks that liking gems and other pretty things make him… well, girly."

Fred and George hummed in understanding, "One of those, eh, Fred?"

"Yep, another one."

"Pity that it won't be until"

"Fifth year or so"

"Before he'll say"

"Bugger all conventions"

"I'm rebelling"

Harry blinked but left it at that. "So," he started.

Fred and George took out notebooks out of nowhere and started checking their references, "Let's start with the easy ones," Fred said, "For the music, we can get you to Patricia Stimpson. She'll let you hear a few artists and you can decide on which one you want to buy, we'll take over from there and get the MMS."

"Take your time," George said, "Patricia has a pretty large collection, she even has some of the not-so-well known artists in there."

"For the art gallery," Fred said, "We'll need to have someone who's at least 17 to order them for us…"

"Same for Jinx Park," George said, "We can get Tonks to order them for us with Harrykins' money."

"Yeah," Fred nodded, "That'd be two less favors she owes us. She can also get the book on diamonds at that bookshop near Heliotrope Street next Hogsmeade visit. So, three less favors."

"About that riding club," George gazed at Harry, "Do you want it to be muggle or magical?"

Harry bit his lip. On the one hand, if Jasper went to a magical one, the stable hand might be able to notice that he's a vampire due to any odd reactions from the horses. On the other hand, Jasper's empathic powers might calm the horses from their natural instincts to flee a powerful predator. Besides, Jasper used to ride horses before he was turned, surely horses would recognize an experienced rider as well. Besides, if things did go wrong, Jasper's secret could still be safe in the muggle world…

"Muggle," Harry nodded, "Jasper lives alone in the muggle world, so it'd be more convenient for him. Oh, and he's going to stay here all year save for the summer so…"

"Got it," Fred nodded, "Seasonal passes for the summer. Doable, I'm pretty sure Lee can get his cousin to find something."

"And I know Eddie Carmichael can get us a cold case book and that Christie one. He can get his cousin to buy it for him and send it to him via owl," George smiled in accomplishment.

Harry stared, bewildered. Just like that, the twins solved his problems in not even ten minutes past. Efficient was the mildest word he could use to describe them.

The twins smirked, "So, ickle Potter, do you know how you're going to pay us back for our humble services?"

Harry bit his lip to prevent the "Pay?" in his lips to squeak out.

"You can either pay us in cash," Fred said.

"Just a modest 6 galleons per favor," George said.

"Or you owe us the same amount of favors," Fred said.

Harry made the mental calculations. Blaise's art gallery was 5 galleons and his book was 5 to 6 galleons' worth, Daphne's Jinx Park was 8 galleons and three sickles, one more for Asteria with a 40 percent discount for kids bellow eleven, Cynthia's MMS would cost 3 galleons each… all that was left were Morag and Jasper's gifts and they'd be paid in muggle money. He could directly cover the galleon charge right now, that's how much money he had leftover on his pouch.

"Question," he said, "How do I withdraw my money from Gringotts and how do we deal with the gifts that require muggle money?"

George grinned, "Glad you asked. You have an owl, right?"

At Harry's nod, he continued, "Send a letter to Gringotts about the withdrawal and they'll send you a weightless pouch of it, in an inconspicuous owl of course."

"They'll do the same with muggle money," Fred said.

Harry bit lip, then nodded. "Alright, how long before I can get an estimate amount of how much muggle money I'll need?"

The twins looked at each other before saying, "A week or so."

Harry nodded, it was workable. It was still early November, he could afford the time.

"Mind if I pay you two upfront on the galleon bit?" Harry asked, "Just let me get my money pouch in my dorm."

"Excellent!"

"We love upfront!"

Harry smiled this time, brightly. "You know, now that I think about it, we haven't even met properly, not even on the Pitch."

He held out a hand with a soft smile, "I'm Harry Potter, nice to meet you both."

"Fred," George pumped it first.

"And George," Fred continued where his brother left off.

"Weasley."

"Pranksters Extraordinaires!"

"And shrewd businessmen," Harry quipped with a sly grin.

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Hagrid was a very trusting individual. Deception just didn't come naturally to him and he had a hard time believing it in others. However, trusting did not necessarily mean stupid. After Tom Riddle, Hagrid had picked up a tendency to distrust any and all Slytherins unless if proven wrong. Take Harry for instance. Despite his green and silver tie, that didn't change the fact that he was a good lad. Although, Hagrid was willing to admit, if only to himself, prejudice and misconception had made him worried that Harry would change into a coldhearted little bastard like Riddle, but he had been thankfully proven wrong when Harry visited him. At first, it had started with just Harry and Jasper visiting, then Daphne, and finally Morag, Cynthia, and Blaise also joined in.

Despite his initial misgivings, Hagrid had to admit that they were good kids, especially Daphne and Cynthia. Daphne was a fellow animal lover and Hagrid regretted that Fluffy was busy guarding the Stone, otherwise he was sure that the girl would love to see the beautiful Cerberus. Cynthia had been a bit on the cautious side, not just about Hagrid, but about everything about this strange new world. She was the type who would observe and wait before acting… a trait that Hagrid himself wished he possessed, it definitely would've saved him a lot of trouble in his younger years. Despite her initially almost self-effacing behavior, she was quite the kind girl.

Blaise, Jasper, and Morag had initially put him on guard. Blaise was a charming, intelligent boy who knew how to reap as many benefits from manipulating others. Hagrid had been momentarily brought back in time, seeing Riddle instead of the dark-skinned boy in front of him. What had assuaged his fears were Blaise's feelings for the group. Riddle used others for his own benefit but never cared about anyone. Blaise, on the other hand, seemed to genuinely care for his friends, even though he'd get embarrassed if anyone pointed it out. Morag was calculating as well, but wasn't the ambitious sort, at least not like Blaise was. The world was the girl's puzzle, so much so that Hagrid wondered why she wasn't sorted to Ravenclaw. But then, that could have just been due to the fact that she was a bit too scheming for her own good. Jasper, on the other hand, had been receptive of Hagrid's mixed feelings. Though Harry had told him that he'd be bringing a friend along, the blond vampire with the too serious face had been a surprise visitor that first week.

Upon first glance, the boy had seemed like a boy too stoic for his age. On the second glance, Hagrid thought that the boy could not be described as a mere boy. Jasper's robin egg blue eyes had appraised him with a laser-like precision that befuddled Hagrid. The intense gaze had assessed him, dissected him, so much that Hagrid had looked away first. He had been at first uneasy, until he noticed the hands hidden underneath the voluminous robe sleeves. He got a small glimpse, a very tiny one, but it was enough for him to guess that they were holding, gripping really, each other's hands. When Hagrid's gaze returned to meet Jasper's, he saw something that resembled approval in the boy's eyes. Eyes that he knew would turn red in anger or bloodlust.

Ever since then, Hagrid had decided to give the boy the benefit of the doubt, same for Blaise, Morag, Cynthia, and Daphne despite the color of their ties.

At this moment, Hagrid had never been prouder of himself for doing so.

"James and Lily's pictures?" Hagrid poured some more nettle tea into the mismatched cups, "I think I can find some."

"That's great!" Daphne beamed, "Thank you so much Hagrid!" She hugged him exuberantly.

Though initially stunned, Hagrid returned the hug. Cynthia's bright smile illuminated her face while Blaise looked triumphant. Morag just kept on adding enormous amounts of sugar to her tea, but a slight quirk of her lips showed her happiness. Jasper allowed a small smile to grace his face.

"How many do you think you can get before December 1st or so?" Morag asked as she drank her tea without a cringe. But, then again, that could have just been because the drink was now sugar with nettle tea instead of the other way around.

"Hmm," Hagrid scratched his beard, "I think I coul' maybe fin' 'bout 20 or so. But why the 1st?"

"We'll have to put them in a photobook," Cynthia smiled, "And even with magic that might take some time. Also, we'll have to find a hiding place so Harry won't find it."

"Makes sense," Hagrid grinned through his bushy beard.

"Speaking of which," Jasper chocked down the tea, "How's your search going Blaise?"

Blaise preened, "Good enough that I've found two official photos of James Potter's Auror team, one of his school Quidditch team in his sixth year, two of Lily Evans' Charms Experimentation team, one of her Slug Club gathering photos, and one of the Head Boy and Girl of 1976."

Cynthia whistled, "Wow, money gives fast results."

"Why do you think I thank the gods everyday for being born rich?" Blaise grinned.

"Rich jerk," Cynthia minded her language around Hagrid, since he was a faculty of the school, but that didn't deter the affection from her voice to carry on.

"It's a curse, I know, I'll always be the envied one," Blaise chuckled.

"Careful, love," Cynthia shook her finger, "Big heads are not as attractive as you might think."

Jasper almost spat out the tea at, what he thought (and hoped was only his overactive imagination), was a sexual innuendo. Morag just continued sipping the saccharine tea.

"Speaking of big heads," Daphne said, "That cute little Bowtruckle tried to sneak in at Greenhouse 3 again."

"Again?" Hagrid scratched his beard, "Doesn't Professor Kettleburn feed 'im enough woodlice?"

"Or perhaps he has a preference to certain insects," Daphne forced herself to swallow all the tea in her cup without grimacing.

"Maybe," Hagrid frowned, "He is a picky little bugger. I've seen 'im try 'is luck with the Whomping Willow."

"Maybe he needs a change of diet?" Daphne asked, "Maybe this is his way of telling you all that he's tired of only munching on wormwood and pine lice."

"Yeh know what? Maybe yer right," Hagrid nodded. "Of course, I'll have ta suggest it ta Professor Kettleburn but it can't hurt ta try."

"Why don't you do it, though?" Daphne asked, "It's not as though you're inexperienced with animals of any kind."

Hagrid seemed to deflate and inflate all at once. "I'm not a Professor, Daphne. It's best ta leave that to 'em."

Jasper clenched his jaw at the longing and caution that came from Hagrid. This was a man who had lost much since his expulsion and he was more than aware that he could lose what little he had if a wrong move reached the wrong ears.

"But you are still a personnel of the school," Cynthia pointed out, "As the Groundskeeper, it is your job to make sure nothing untoward happens to the Grounds, including magical creatures trying to sneak into a classroom. Changing the Bowtruckle's diet for Professor Kettleburn would be part of doing your duties, wouldn't it?"

"Maybe," Hagrid busied himself by pouring more tea to his cup, sloshing some to his table in his haste, "But considering who some o' the members o' the Board o' Education happen ta be… trust me, it's just better ta follow protocol."

Cynthia frowned but she nudged Daphne when it looked like she wanted to argue. Jasper likewise tapped Blaise's shoulder, informing him not to pursue that tangent. Morag had finished drinking her tea and was eating the liquefied sugar left with a spoon.

"Hagrid," Morag said, "How rare are Cerberi?"

Hagrid sputtered, "W-w-what? Wait, how'd you find out 'bout Fluffy!?"

"Fluffy?" Blaise, Cynthia, and Jasper deadpanned.

"Fluffy?" Morag kept her neutral expression. An innocent seeming one would have given away her dishonesty, "What does Fluffy have to do with Cerberi?"

Daphne got an adoring glint in her eyes and she opened her mouth to speak before Cynthia, with the delicacy of a trampling ox, shoved a rock cake into her mouth. "Mf!"

"Somethin' wrong?" Hagrid asked.

"Nope," Cynthia smiled a bit too wide, "Just trying out that new tossing food into a friend's mouth technique!"

"Huh?"

"It's a muggle thing kids do," Cynthia said, trusting that Hagrid's lack of knowledge of the muggle world would make him believe the muggleborn's statement.

"Alright," Hagrid said, "Strange things, the things muggles do."

"Hagrid," Morag said as she finished her sticky sugar, "What would a very innocent and cute name have anything to do with Cerberi?"

"Now listen Morag," Hagrid bristled, same as Daphne who couldn't talk thanks to he rock cake in her mouth, "I know what all the books say abou' 'em, but really, they're just misunderstood. When yeh get to know 'em, they're really more like big puppies than anythin'. Take Fluffy fer example, as soon as yeh play some music for 'im, he calms down and falls asleep faster then yeh can say 'Quidditch.'"

"Soooo," Blaise said, "I take it that Fluffy is a Cerberus that you own?"

Fluffy. If Jasper ever did learn Legilimency, he would be sure to stay away from minds like Daphne and Hagrid's.

"Em, eh, yeah," Hagrid sputtered, unsure how to proceed, "I mean, I legally own 'im. Ain't no law that says I can't keep one."

Blaise took up the relay, "Wonder what this school needs a powerful guard dog for?"

"That's between the Headmaster and Nicholas Flamel, so don't get any ideas!" Hagrid cried. His eyes widened and he slapped his palm over his forehead, "Oh, I shouldn't've said that, I shouldn't've said that, I shouldn't've said that, I shouldn't've said that…"

Blaise hid his victorious grin behind his teacup while Morag looked down so the floor was receptive of the proud twinkle in her eyes. Checkmate.

Cynthia adopted a confused look on her face, "Hagrid, how did we go from Cerberi and their rarity to the Headmaster and this… Nicholas fellow?"

"Huh?" Hagrid peaked at her from his hand, "Wait, so none of you know 'bout… Right, forget I said that, yep, it's got nothing ta do with yeh kids."

Daphne had managed to ingest the rock cake by washing it down with Cynthia and Blaise's nettle tea, "Sure, so long as you can tell us all about Cerberi!"

Hagrid looked at her in shock and not a little suspicion.

Jasper decided that now was a good time to use his gift. Weaving in the feeling of trust within Hagrid, Jasper added the coup de grace, "We found an old copy of Ovid's _Metamorphosis_, in it was _The Myth Orpheus_. As such, it brought upon the question of whether the Cerberus depicted in the classic was faithful to reality or not."

With a relieved smile, Hagrid told them about Cerberi amidst Daphne's squeals and coos. Surely the kids wouldn't figure it out from what little information he said, it was all a misunderstanding.

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It was nearing winter holidays and things were not peaceful in the least bit at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Midterm exams were around the corner, Professors gave out homework even as dejected students got back their tests, no one wanted to be in classes, everyone was packing their luggage at the last minute, last second Christmas shopping was wheedled…

In short, the school was chaos incarnate, just like any other school right before any major holiday.

Harry and his friends had an extra task that took up some of their studying and packing time: searching for the illusive Nicholas Flamel.

It hadn't taken long for everyone to guess that the package Hagrid picked up at the same vault that was broken into was what the Cerberus was guarding.

While the rest of his friends poured over textbooks and sometimes old newspapers, eager to solve the mystery (especially Morag), Jasper would sometimes sit deep in thought while processing the information in front of him. Something about the whole situation didn't feel right to him and it wasn't just a gut feeling. Why did Hagrid pick up such an important package when he was chaperoning a student? True, the man himself probably thought that it was convenient to take it then and maybe he was pressed for time, as the theft happened the day after, but how could he have known that? He could have taken it while Harry was getting fitted or after he returned Harry home... anything to keep an innocent bystander from knowing of the package and what it contained.

Jasper started. But what if Harry wasn't an innocent bystander? What if someone wanted him to know about it? What if—

"Hey," Harry slumped on the couch next to Jasper, "I asked Fred and George about it."

"What did they say?" Jasper asked.

"They said that the only famous person they know of that sounds close to "Flamel" is Ambrosius Flume," Harry said, drooping his head on Jasper's shoulder, "Sorry."

"S'okay," Blaise said, "It was a long shot anyway." Morag passed the box of Licorice Wands to Harry, her version of cheering him up. Jasper squeezed his hand softly and Daphne smiled at him.

"Oh?" Cynthia asked, "Who is that? Maybe we could still use him as a lead."

"He's the owner of Honeydukes, the famous sweetshop in Hogsmeade," Daphne rubbed Dymphana's back.

"Blast," Cynthia snapped her fingers, "This is getting annoying."

"What is annoying is that I feel like I know the name," Daphne grumbled, "This is making me feel stupid."

Blaise and Morag grunted in agreement. Morag in particular looked like she wanted to sulk.

"Maybe it's not someone we study until later?" Harry asked, "Maybe he did something or invented something and it's covered in the years above third?"

"Like in History of Magic?" Cynthia chewed on the Licorice Wand, "Somehow, I doubt anyone would pay attention to Binns, no matter the year."

"Besides," Blaise grouched, "He doesn't really teach modern history or present times."

"Maybe we've been barking up the wrong tree," Jasper said, pensive, "Maybe Flamel is not someone who became famous in this century. Maybe he's older than Dumbledore—"

"You mean, you think he's a vampire or a high elf?" Daphne asked, eyes wide in excitement.

"Why not?" Jasper gently gripped Harry's hand, a soft return squeeze soothed him. "We've looked at every major book on famous wizards and witches in modern times. Maybe we haven't found him because he is considered famous in another time period."

"That…" Morag got a feverish glint in her eyes, "I'm sure that we can narrow down the species that are either immortal or live really long lives. We can then get some books about famous individuals among them and we can flush Flamel out!"

"Unless he's a human and he's found the Fountain of Youth," Harry jested, "Or maybe the Elixir of Life."

Morag stilled and gaped at Harry while the others chuckled. Morag croaked with a breathless voice, "What did you say?"

Harry cocked his head to the side, "Unless he's human and he's found the Fountain—"

"No, the next one!" Morag cried.

"The Elixir of Life?" Harry burrowed back to the couch and Jasper. Morag's eyes had a certain glint that made her look crazed.

Morag just tore away from the couch and commons without any explanation, leaving dust in her wake.

It was quiet for a bit before Harry chocked out, "Was it something I said?"

"Whatever it was, it got her more thrilled than my idea," Jasper said. He grinned at Harry, "I think you just inadvertently gave her the answer… or at least a lead."

Daphne recovered quickly enough, "Are you two sure you don't want us to stay?"

"It's fine Daphne," Harry waved it off, "You lot go enjoy Yule with your families. It's not as though we'll be alone, we'll have each other."

Jasper nodded, "With how homesick all of you are, I doubt any of you would last until summer vacation without a visit."

That was true. Even Morag and Blaise missed their homes.

Even though Ilaria Zabini's profession was husband slaying and keeping the money, she deeply loved her son more than life itself. Blaise was not ashamed to admit that he too loved his mother very much and that he missed her and her doting affections these past months. Morag missed her father and her younger sister Katrina; she couldn't wait to see them again and maybe continue that debate about self-levitation versus broomsticks. However, if her father's wife were to drop off the face of the Earth, Morag would celebrate.

Cynthia was eager to return to her parents and go on that trip to the Alps. Even if the trip was cancelled, so long as she could see her parents again, she'd be happy. It'd been too long since she'd gotten a cheery "good morning" with a served breakfast from her mom, or received advice or cheering up from her dad. Daphne was itching to come home to her mothers and sister. After almost three months without her mommy's hugs or her mama's pep talks, Daphne felt a bit vulnerable, not that she would show it.

For those with loving, close-knit families, boarding school gave them homesickness until they got used to the absence. For those with nothing to return to or deplorable families or even indifferent ones, boarding school was a safe haven.

Harry tried not to let some of his envy flicker through his eyes, so he used his specs, his bangs, and the candle light near them to flash some light to his glasses, hiding his eyes. Jasper started rubbing his side absentmindedly, giving him comfort without a thought.

Cynthia cleared her throat, uncomfortable with the tense atmosphere. Daphne was twitching in her seat, wanting nothing more than to give Harry and Jasper a hug, but she knew it would only make it worse. Blaise tried to appear unaffected, but it was hard to take his blasé attitude seriously when he was sneaking apologetic glances to his friends.

"So," Harry swallowed the jealousy down, "What are you all going to do for the hols?"

Cynthia fidgeted for a bit, "Well, if all goes well, we, my parents and I, I mean, might go to the Alps. If not, we'll just stay home and enjoy Christmas together," Cynthia smiled at the thought of her parents. "I'll probably have to reacquaint myself to the muggle world first," she grinned self-deprecatingly, "I haven't been near anything electronic for three months. I can just see myself blowing up a microwave on my first day back!"

That got the desired reaction. Harry choked at the mental image and started laughing. Cynthia beamed, proud that she'd butchered the edgy mood. Jasper sent her a grateful glance with a wink while Blaise and Daphne gave her discreet thumbs up.

"I wouldn't feel too bad about it, Cynthia," Jasper continued, "I've lived in the muggle world my whole life and I still can't work the damned things to save my life."

Granted, he'd lived in an era before such technology was even conceivable to the mind. But! Minor detail.

"Yeah," Cynthia hummed, "But you've lived in the Texan countryside. I've lived in London for my entire life."

"Not all of us are country bumpkins, you know," Jasper mock-scowled. He knew it was all in good humor.

"Well," Daphne said in a sing-song voice, "Considering that you're our only example of a born and raised Texan, you'll forgive us for making you the main point of reference."

"And let's not forget," Harry smirked, "You're as old fashioned as this castle. I'd be surprised if you could work a microwave."

Jasper lightly pinched Harry's side, "So sorry I'm a technological disaster," he jokingly grumbled, "And I'm not that old!"

Blaise, Cynthia, and Daphne were too happy that Harry was jesting around to notice the little slip up or its meaning. Blaise made a show of analyzing Jasper, "Hm, no perhaps not as old as the castle. I'd say he's as old fashioned as nonna Enrica or perhaps more so."

"First I'm a tech dummy and now I'm old," Jasper huffed, "What next?"

"You know we love you," Daphne grinned along with Cynthia and Blaise. Harry just rested his head on Jasper's shoulder with a smile.

"Although," Blaise started, "I really want to know what set Morag off like that."

"Who knows," Daphne took out Dymphana's brush from her bag and started to use it on her kneazle.

"It might be a while before she gets back," Cynthia took out her own bag, "You know what Madam Pince is like."

Everyone scowled. Madam Irma Pince was good at her job as far as making sure no wear or, especially, tear happened to the books of the Hogwarts library. However, her customer service skills left much to be desired, particularly towards those that were fourth years and bellow, as she felt that the rowdy children were the biggest threats to her precious books.

Jasper was under the impression that she only stayed around as long as she had because the Board figured she would die or retire sooner or later.

Cynthia took out some parchment and, after a grimace, her thick quill with a black ink pot. What she'd give for normal biro pens. She also took out Emeric Switch's _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_ and began looking for the page 75.

"You're already starting with homework?" Daphne asked with an incredulous mien.

"The sooner I get started on 'em, the sooner I finish 'em," Cynthia said, "Don't know about you all, but I don't want to spend my vacation doing homework when I could spend it with my family and friends."

"Point taken," Blaise said, "It'd still be easier to do that History paper if Bagshot wasn't as dry as Binns."

"Is anyone even going to bother with the Defense essay?" Harry asked. Quirell had lost a lot of respect from the student body ever since his stunt at the Quidditch match. He'd claimed that he had been hoping to momentarily distract the Slytherin team to give the Gryffindors a chance at winning. Needless to say, those that did believe his story were highly offended, whether they were Slytherin, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, or Ravenclaw. This was Quidditch dammit! You could cheat at papers, exams, and hex your enemies at the corridors, but you don't rig Quidditch matches like that!

Harry and his friends had been flummoxed at the easy acceptance of such badly thought out bullshit. Were the residents of Hogwarts that gullible? Or was Quidditch really that big of a deal?

"Honestly, I'm going to do that one at the last minute," Daphne snorted along with Dymphana.

"Don't," Jasper shook his head, "It might seem meaningless now, but a bad grade will still go into your permanent record, even if the teacher giving said grade is an incompetent sociopath."

Jasper was getting really annoyed at Quirell's continued existence. The man was too integrated to the school that it was getting difficult for Jasper to find a way to murder him without anyone raising any eyebrows. Although, Jasper had caught Flint sharpening his big Potions knife with a demented smile on his face once…

"Bugger," Harry said.

"At least we won't be bored," Jasper reminded him.

"Busy and bored are not necessarily opposites, you know," Harry said.

"Sure they aren't," Jasper smirked.

"Say, who knows the difference between Cross-Species Switching Spells and regular Switching Spells?" Cynthia asked, chewing her pinky nail instead of the end of her quill like she was tempted to. She really needed to get some pens.

"Cross-Species Switching Spells is, for example, when a creature is turned into an object," Blaise said, "Even if you transfigure a creature into another, it can be considered as Cross-Species if they are of different animal families."

"Oh," Harry said, "So if you transfigure a rabbit into a, well, eagle, it would be Cross-Species Switching?"

"Yeah, that is the jist of it," Blaise nodded, "Basically, Cross-Species Switching is a specialized form of Switching Spells. Switching Spells' the generalized term that is used for simple or hard-to-categorize transfigurations."

"Like turning a match to a needle?" Cynthia asked as she wrote down her outline, "Or would that be Cross-Species as well since the match is of the wood family while the needle is of the metal family?"

"There is such a thing as wooden needles," Jasper said.

"Aren't those used to knit though?" Daphne asked.

They didn't get to answer as Morag barged in to the dorm with… quite the mini-mountain of books in front of her.

Harry tried to peer through the books to ascertain that it was indeed Morag. The height and messy uniform and robe matched, at least.

"Morag?" he cautiously tested.

Morag didn't answer, she just plopped down the books with a bang at the study table. She took out a book from close to the middle and allowed the rest of the top books to fall. Jasper, Harry, Blaise, and Daphne caught them before they fell from the table while Cynthia took out her homework utensils from the table.

"That was fast," Daphne said, disgruntled.

Morag didn't look up from flipping through the pages, "Madam Pince is currently giving Princess Isabel and Prince Kenneth quite a lecture about indecent acts at the library. She never noticed many of us leaving the library without checking out the books."

Isabel McDougal, Morag and Katrina's half-sister. All of the McDougal sisters had different mothers. Morag's had been a courtesan her father had accidentally impregnated and Katrina's had been a waitress, witch of course, her father had an affair with while doing business in Romania. What made Isabel different from her sisters was that she was "the legitimate child" as she had always rubbed it into their faces with her nose in the air.

It was no wonder that Morag and Katrina were so close. Whenever their father wasn't home, it was them against Isabel and her mother.

"Indecent?" Harry mouthed.

"They were swapping saliva by the Magical Creatures section," Morag continued searching for something in the thick tome in front of her, "Just because the Princess only dreams of becoming someone's bride does not mean she can block the rest of us from knowledge and higher education."

Morag was not a bitter person, not in the least bit.

Blaise grinned, dysfunctional families never made him nervous, "And you had nothing to do with Madam Pince becoming aware of the, ahem, beastly behavior?"

Morag didn't answer. Whether that was because Blaise was right or she had found what she was looking for, no one will know. "You're right!" she shouted at Harry.

"I am?" Harry was ashamed to note that his voice came out in a squeak.

With her frazzled appearance, disheveled hair, rumpled clothing, and the manic gleam in her eyes, Morag resembled a Sybil that had come out of a vision. And Harry wasn't talking about a Renaissance painting Sybil, he was talking about the wild women Sybils were more or less accurately depicted of being by the Ancient Greeks.

Looking at the others, Harry was relieved to note that they too were looking like they wanted to slip Morag a sedative or two.

"Yes!" Morag nodded frantically like an over-eager House-Elf, "Nicholas Flamel is a celebrated alchemist who is famous for inventing the Philosopher's Stone. The Philosopher's Stone is the greatest achievement in alchemy, for it is a stone that can turn any metal into gold and can produce the Elixir of Life. Currently, Flamel is about to celebrate his 665th birthday and Perenelle, his wife, will celebrate her 658th."

Had a pin dropped at that moment, it would have made the most high-voltage sound.

"What?!" Cynthia chocked out.

"Let me see!" Daphne snatched the heavy book effortlessly. There it was, for all to see, the description of Flamel, his wife, and his stone written in the book matching almost verbatim what Morag had said. "No buggering way!"

"You do realize what that means, don't you?" Blaise looked like he was about to pass out, "It means that Flamel, for some barmy reason we can't explain, entrusted the Stone to Dumbledore!"

"Oh, right," Cynthia snorted, sarcasm dripping from every syllable, "A 665-year-old man would give his means of living forever to another man just like that. Really, we only start to wise up and stop trusting people at our 800's."

"Maybe Flamel has some other project he wants Dumbledore to safeguard?" Jasper suggested, though he himself didn't believe it. That niggling feeling that something was wrong was buzzing louder.

"What could need more safeguarding than the Philosopher's Stone!?" Daphne cried.

"Sod that!" Blaise snapped, "What can be so important that someone would risk robbing Gringotts?!"

"Does it say what the Stone looks like," Harry had a pensive frown on his face. 'Could it be?'

Morag pointed at a passage, "It says here that 'the Philosopher's Stone is the size of a medium rock that can fit the palm. It is blood-red colored, as such, many scholars have speculated over the years that it was created using human blood or it required a sacrifice pertaining to human blood.' Really fascinating when you think about it, don't you think?" Morag didn't look the least bit perturbed, "I wonder how many protections the third floor has. Maybe if we can bypass them, we could take the Stone and examine it. Alchemy's greatest achievement, here, in our school..."

"Morag!" Cynthia snapped her fingers in front of her friend, "Think about what you're saying!"

"I take it you also think the Stone is here?" Jasper asked. By Harry's sudden tense posture, Jasper could guess what would be said in the next minute.

"Harry did mention that Hagrid had taken a package from the lower levels of Gringotts," Morag said, "From the context, I deduced that said package was fairly small. Was I incorrect?"

"No, you got it in one," Harry put his hands in front of him to demonstrate the size, "It was about this big. It probably looked bigger because it was wrapped up in a box."

They examined the space between the hands. "It fits," Cynthia admitted grudgingly.

"And it was in the lower levels," Jasper said, "Meaning that it was highly important to begin with."

"Not only that," Harry said, "But there was nothing in that high security vault _but_ the package."

"So the Stone is here?" Daphne asked, "But, why? It doesn't make any sense! Even if Hogwarts is arguably one of the most secure places in the entire United Kingdom, there's still so many risks of something happening to it!"

"Not only that," Blaise said, "But Hogwarts is only protected from outside forces. What if someone from the inside were to try to steal the Stone?"

"That would require said someone from the inside to know that the Stone is here in the first place," Cynthia pointed out.

"Hagrid knew," Harry said, "And… Fluffy belongs to him. How much you want to bet that the rest of the professors know and have added their own protections?"

"Well," Daphne said with slight hesitation, "If it's only the profs that know, it's okay, right? I mean, if one of them tries anything, the rest will know who to go after, right?"

"Before September, I would've said that no one could be barmy or desperate enough to steal from Gringotts, but there you go," Blaise said.

"Who could deny themselves the temptation of living forever and being rich?" Cynthia asked no one in particular.

Jasper almost winced. 'You'd be surprised how living forever can be a curse,' he thought to himself.

Harry, as if knowing what Jasper was thinking, encircled his arm over Jasper to form a one-armed hug.

Jasper smiled at the gesture. Harry had come a long way in the past three months. Before, he was hesitant about too much body contact from anyone, now he was beginning to initiate physical affection. Nothing big, just a brush of hands from time to time, or leaning against one of them (though Jasper was the one that received that the most, with Daphne second). For Harry to give him a hug… Jasper allowed the warmth in his eyes to linger.

Morag closed the heavy tome, "I suppose this means that the Flamels must have a lot of faith in Dumbledore."

"Wonder what kind of relationship they have that the Flamels are giving him the means of their survival," Harry said as he started opening a Chocolate Frog one-handed.

Jasper frowned, but said nothing as he helped Harry with the wrapping and the treat itself. 'The more important question is, why did the Flamels give the Stone to him in the firs place. Surely wherever the Flamels live, they must have their own protections. And if there was some danger to the Stone, why now?' Jasper glanced at Harry, 'Why now that Harry is starting at Hogwarts?'

The puzzle pieces were coming together and he was not liking like the picture they produced, not at all.

"By the way," Harry asked after he finished munching on the Frog, "What were the rest of the books for?"

"Just in case your theory was incorrect and Jasper's was spot on," Morag said, "I'll have to return them soon before Pince throws a fit."

"Maybe we can all take them back," Daphne suggested, "Like say, we all take two to three books and return them. That way, it won't look too suspicious if Morag were to take that pile back on her own."

"Good idea," Morag smiled, "Now, all we need to do is find books on Dumbledore."

"Why Dumbledore?" Jasper asked. She wasn't…

"The mystery isn't finished," Morag said, "We only know what is inside that trapdoor and what might be guarding it, we don't know the why."

She was.

"You and your Rubik's complex," Cynthia teased.

"Hey, you got another Dumbledore, Harry," Blaise pointed to the Chocolate Frog card, "Maybe that's a sign?"

"What is a card going to tell us about Dumbledore and Flamel?" Daphne finished brushing Dymphana's coat. The feline purred her thanks to her mistress.

"Oh, I don't know, why don't we give it a look see," Harry chuckled, "'Albus Dumbledore. Currently Headmaster of Hogwarts. Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and—" Harry stopped himself, eyes wide.

"What?" Cynthia asked, "It can't be that bad! I mean, it's a trading card for kids. No one's gonna put anything foul, true or not, about a national hero."

"It's his fault we'll have to do that paper about dragon's blood at the end of the year," Blaise grumbled, "'Nuff said."

Jasper chuckled at that. Blaise might change his tune if he ever needed to clean an oven or strengthen some wards.

"Harry, luv?" Daphne touched his arm, "What is it?"

Grinning from ear to ear, Harry almost crowed, "'And his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicholas Flamel.'"

"What?" Morag casted a look of disbelief.

"It says so right here, on the card," Harry passed it around.

"Weeks of cramming, searching, insomnia…" Morag glared at the card as though it was at fault for everything that went wrong in her life, "And the bleedin' answer was in a simple card!"

"You're telling me," Daphne grumbled, "I could have gotten an EE instead of an A at Transfiguration if I had studied a bit more."

"It's fine, I'm sure you'll more than make up for it after Chri—Yule," Harry corrected himself at the last minute. He still wondered why he still used the word Christmas. After all, he never celebrated it before, he'd just cooked even more and had been tormented at the sight of Dudley getting everything he wanted and then some from his parents without getting anything but more chores himself.

"Here's to hoping you lot keep your bathrooms clean when you get back," Jasper gave them all a look.

After Harry had finished cleaning the bathrooms, his friends kept them clean with spells and sometimes potions. However, it wasn't an ingrained habit and they all had to constantly remind each other to do it. Jasper was a bit worried that they would all get out of the habit in the hols. But, after all the work it took Harry to scrub their loos clean, none of them wanted a repeat performance.

"Aw, but Harry makes such a cute girl!" Daphne cooed. Dymphana, the little traitor, mewed in agreement. Although, really, they would just prefer to see him like that without the need to clean disgusting washrooms. Ugh, and people wondered why they treated Harry as if he was Merlin himself for a week.

"Parkinson's still frothing at the mouth that you make a prettier girl than she does," Cynthia said in a sotto voice.

"Handsome girls that don't clog their pores with cosmetics prematurely are more attractive than pretty girls that do," Morag nodded sagely.

"You do realize I am so going to talk about that at your wedding," Blaise grinned.

Harry, though blushing enough to give the Weasley hair serious competition, knew an opening when he saw one, "And I will talk about _why_ I had to be transfigured to a girl in the first place at _your _wedding, mate."

"Touché," Blaise laughed.

"McDougal!" Parkinson's shrill voice cut through the cozy group. "Get your trash out of my space before I burn it!"

Morag contemplated for a second how much arm strength it would take for the heavy book in front of her to sail the distance from her hand to Parkinson's face.

"You burn it, you pay her back with interest," Harry snarled, "We not only have six witnesses to your threat, and we can even use it as a pensieve memory at that, there would also be proof that her stuff was burned. So, as the main suspect, you would be found guilty and you'd not only end up in detention at best, but you'd also have to reimburse Morag."

That got Parkinson to shut up, even for a moment.

Blaise just turned to Harry and breathed, "I am so proud of you!"

The rest of the group laughed at that. Parkinson's discombobulated face only added wood to the fire.

Daphne stopped laughing enough to pierce Parkinson with a fierce glare, "At least Morag doesn't do it deliberately, unlike some rude individuals I could mention. So, Parkinson, Morag's stuff will be out of your space when you take your trash from Davis'."

"Oh, and what are you? Her Knight in Shinning Armor?" Parkinson sneered, "I didn't know halfbloods were your type, Greengrass."

"Better that than an inbred Idiot Prince," Daphne shot back, "Oh, I'm so sorry. I forgot, you're an inbred Idiot Princess yourself. Emphasis on the inbred and the idiot."

"At least I can be called a Princess," Parkinson trembled in anger, "Tell me, how has your family been faring? Last I heard, it's a wonder you're not living next door to filth like the Weasleys."

"So says the girl who will spend all of the family income the second she gets it," Harry drawled.

"Now Harry," Cynthia admonished, "That is not true. If her parents are wise and don't give her a shilling before she gets married to a responsible spouse, I'm sure the Parkinson monies will be as safe as can be."

Parkinson looked like she was going to pull out her wand and start hexing, so Blaise decided a little intervention never hurt anybody, "Speaking of future spouses, I do believe that Draco mentioned he wanted a word with you."

Her entire demeanor changed at that. Gone was the scowl and it was replaced by a vapid idolizing twinkle in her eyes. Jasper felt dizzy at the fast mood swing and gripped Harry's loose shirt to ground himself. "Why didn't you say so the first time, fool?!" she rushed out of the commons, a trail of dust at her wake.

Pre-teens and teens with a crush that is mistaken for love are very frightening individuals. Jasper decided not to bother himself with that.

"Are you, by chance, planning to become a diplomat?" Jasper asked Blaise. The boy showed promise.

Blaise shrugged, "Not really. It's as my mum always said, 'If you're going to kill someone, it doesn't hurt to be polite.'"

"Wasn't it Winston Churchill who said that?" Harry furrowed his brow.

"I don't think she's gotten annoying enough to kill yet," Daphne sniffed.

"I think he was talking figuratively," Jasper murmured. His body vibrated a bit from Harry's chuckles.

The group started grabbing the rest of the books, two to three per person, and left to put them back before Pince had an aneurism.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It was Christmas time and Harry didn't really feel like waking up and leaving his warm bed. The entire dormitory was bare, save for him and Jasper, so Harry didn't feel the usual urge to wake up before Malfoy got any ideas of pranking him. Not that Jasper would allow for anything to happen, still, better to be safe than sorry.

"Harry," Jasper softly shook him. Drat, he'd forgotten that Jasper didn't sleep. "Come on, it's almost ten."

Harry was tempted to burrow into his pillow but he didn't. The ingrained habit of immediately waking up at Petunia's shriek wouldn't let him. Besides, with no one else around among the first years, Jasper was bound to be bored.

So, with an exaggerated groan and glare, Harry rolled out of his bed, put on a balmy bathrobe over his flannel pajamas, and put a warming charm over himself. It was too cold in the dungeons to walk around without a warming charm or extra clothes.

Jasper was dressed in a simple pair of slacks and a button-up shirt. Harry had to wonder what kind of family Jasper came from for formal wear to be casual for him. He certainly always made Harry feel scruffy next to him.

"Come on," Jasper dragged him away from the dorms and to the commons, "Don't bother changing, you can do it after we open the presents."

Presents? Oh, right, presents! Harry hoped that Blaise, Cynthia, Daphne, and Morag got his presents by now.

Jasper led him, well, dragged him really, to the front of the fireplace where it had a modest sum of presents separated by the year of the receiver.

Presents, Harry swallowed. Would he get anything this year? He remembered that Cynthia had asked what he wanted for Yule, but that's a simple courtesy question right?

Jasper stopped short of the first year pile, levitated them with a spell, and dragged Harry back to the commons. "Gifts should be savored in privacy, at least the meaningful ones should be."

Harry caught up to Jasper and trotted back to the dorms, closing the door behind them.

The packages were littered in front of both boys' beds. Harry instinctively sought out his gift for Jasper and thrusted it at him, "Here you go, Happy Christmas."

Sensing Harry's insecurities, Jasper weaved a sense of tranquility to him, calming him momentarily. Jasper was careful while ripping the paper, the package was small and he didn't know what was inside it. Harry was the type who would go for quality over size.

Jasper's eyes widened as he saw his gift. The brochure with a rider on top of a beautiful chestnut stallion on the cover had halted his breath. Then, he glanced at the tickets next to it… Seasonal club passes to horseback riding!

Jasper's silence was making Harry nervous. Had he read his friend wrong? Oh, bugger, he—

Jasper enveloped Harry in a warm hug. "Thank you," Jasper whispered. How had he known that Jasper loved riding horseback? As much as the subway was convenient or his own vampiric speed useful, neither came close to giving him the rush that riding on a horse did. Jasper tightened his grip, careful not to hurt Harry. Did Harry realize he just gave him back a piece of his human life?

"You're welcome," was the automatic response, then Harry breathed, "I'm glad you liked it."

They remained like that for a while, just enjoying the warmth each other's presence. Harry found that Jasper didn't feel as cold as he once did. The warming charm? Or perhaps Harry'd grown used to it? It didn't matter. Jasper was Jasper, his friend and that was that.

They pulled back, smiling, Harry with relief and Jasper with happiness. It wasn't often that the vampire felt unadulterated joy like this, Harry felt… well, happy that Jasper was happy, especially since he was the cause of that happiness, as inane as it sounded.

"The others are going to have a hard time topping you," Jasper adopted a teasing tone, but he was serious. Even if one ignored how costly the gift had to be, the caring, thought, and sheer emotion behind it, it was obvious that Harry had thought long and hard over it.

"We'll see," Harry smiled back. They perused through their gifts together, just sharing the moments with comfort. Morag had thoughtfully gotten Harry a great deal of simple muggle pants and shirts, big enough that he could grow into them but not huge like Dudley's that he would still swim in them years later. She had picked up on Harry's desire to save money by not buying any unnecessary things like presentable clothes, but at the same time she'd noticed that he hated wearing his cousin's cast-offs, ashamed of them actually. Three of the shirts and two pants were his current size and he could use them now. The colors were comfortable earth-tones of brown, beige, grey, and the occasional blue, black, and green.

Harry had smiled softly at the gift. Already he was mentally searching for some places to hide the clothes. In the summer he'd use the usual cast-offs, but he'd hide the valued clothes in his trunk or something.

Jasper had gotten _Veneficus Equus_ by Laurentia Fletwock, a huge book on magical horses. Daphne had left a note with her gift that said, "Yeah, I know. I practically begged my parents to send me to Beauxbatons just for their Pegasi. Now, I'm glad they sent me to Hogwarts, as otherwise I wouldn't have met you all, but all the same, I still want some Pegasi on the grounds!" She even added a drawn pouting face for emphasis.

Jasper had chuckled at that. The note and gift were so typically Daphne that it felt like she was in the room with the crazy cat of hers. If anyone else other than Harry would have picked up on his inner horse-lover, it would be the resident animal-lover.

Cynthia had gone the muggle route with her own gifts. She had surprised Harry by the size of the present and even more so at the content inside the wrappings. She had gotten him the board game Monopoly. It was a game that Harry had only heard about from some of the other kids at the local Primary occasionally. Dudley never played it or any other board games, he got bored of them easily and he always threw tantrums whenever he lost at something. Cynthia had given him something normal, something any other kid would get, a game. Something that Harry had never gotten in his ten years of living with his relatives. "Busy doesn't necessarily mean working. Trust me, this game will keep you preoccupied when you need to kill a few hours," Cynthia had finished her note with a smiley face.

Harry's hand twitched, Jasper grabbed it and caressed it with his thumb. He'd beamed at the voice-activated shrinking and enlargening charm Cynthia had someone place on the game. He could hide his prize from the Dursleys!

Blaise wouldn't be Blaise if he didn't do something extravagant. Jasper gaped at the platinum wristwatch with a note beside it. On the inside of the watch was written "Non vedo il male." Blinking, Jasper read the note "See no evil. I know, not too original, but you try fitting something in that tiny space and still make it readable. Keep that watch on you at all times and no one will be able to fool you with glamours, illusions, and maybe Polyjuice (look it up). It's powered by a bit of the user's magic so don't worry about those bat-thingies muggles use." Blaise had left it at that and merely signed his name.

Jasper immediately clasped the watch on his left wrist. It wouldn't surprise him if Blaise got everyone else a similar gift. Ever since the Quidditch fiasco, reinforced with the Troll incident, Blaise had been certain that someone was out to get them. As the son of the Black Widow, he knew that sometimes there was no such thing as bad luck or coincidences.

From Harry's choked reaction to their male friend's gift, Jasper could safely deduce that his theory had been correct. Harry was holding a silver pendant in his hands. The chain was thin but made of silver, a silver miniature broom charm hanging from it. Upon perusing Blaise's note to Harry, the pendant had the same function as Jasper's watch.

"Blaise," Harry shook his head, "This is too much!" Even though Blaise wasn't there, Harry still felt the need to verbalize it.

"Same as the tickets you got me must have cost you a pretty penny," Jasper said. He took the pendant from Harry and fastened it on. The thin chain and small charm were barely noticeable on Harry's light-colored clothes. The pendant was subtle enough that Harry could hide it underneath his clothes. That was perfect, as Harry had a tendency to hoard and hide his valued possessions.

"Suits you," Jasper grinned.

"Same to you," Harry pointed to the watch.

Jasper had to laugh a second later at Cynthia's gift. She'd gotten him a Go set. "If you ever get bored with ole reliable chess, here's one game that I know you will enjoy. Try not to crush Harry too badly, he might return fire at his game."

Harry had shown him the game and just by looking at the basic economics involved in the game told Jasper of his inevitable defeat. He'd never worried about money as a human and he never had to worry about it as a vampire either. Obviously Harry was going to kick his arse at Monopoly.

Harry had gotten a broomstick servicing kit and a self-updating book on Quidditch teams of the United Kingdom from Daphne. "Might as well scope out the competition early. Not that any one of them could hold a candle to you when they were eleven, much less when you're their age. And if pro Quidditch's not in the plans, every player will breathe a sigh of relief as they won't be eclipsed by your brilliant performance!" Daphne had signed her note with a grinning face.

He'd laughed at that, leaning a bit on Jasper from his chuckles. Although, Daphne's unshakeable confidence in him was an amazing ego-booster. And Harry had one too many years of ego-stroking to make up for.

Jasper had a large tome balanced on his crossed legs. _What the Politicians are hiding_ _(and how Wizarding Britain works)_ by Zinerva Brett was at least 5 inches thick. Only Morag could possibly find a very comprehensive, ministry-unfriendly, muggleborn-friendly, non-officially-banned book for a Christmas gift.

Glancing at the remaining three gifts, Jasper and Harry, as if by silent agreement, started moving their opened gifts elsewhere. Jasper placed his two books, his Go game, and the tickets inside his trunk and locked it. He knew that two of the gifts were for Harry from himself and the gang, but the third one… his watch had started vibrating a bit, making him see the third unknown package in a silvery glint. That third gift was under glamour.

Harry also packed his new clothes (after folding them), his Monopoly game, his book, and broom servicing kit inside his trunk but he didn't lock it yet. His pendant had likewise warned him of the third package ever since he put it on. Harry reminded himself to thank Blaise profusely for such a thoughtful and useful gift.

Jasper cautiously got both of Harry's known gifts and put them on his friend's bed. They couldn't play dumb like they had a few minutes ago. He hadn't sensed any frustrated emotions or forced patience from anywhere even when he had expanded his range. Perhaps the sender was too far away and had other means of observing them.

That was the problem with Jasper's gift, if it was something inanimate, he couldn't tell if it was benevolent or malevolent with his empathy, it only worked on beings. Magic, despite being somewhat sentient, didn't necessarily leave trails of the caster's emotions on objects. Unless if they were heavily cursed objects that simply oozed of malice, but those were mostly amateurish and any idiot with self-preservation instincts knew better than to go near 'em.

Jasper signaled for Harry to stay behind him. As a vampire, Jasper had more chances of survival from curses (without protection that is) than Harry. Harry narrowed his eyes and had his wand out, hidden by the too long sleeve of his bathrobe, a shield charm at the tip of his tongue.

Jasper's arms blurred as he tore the wrappings and he jumped back a second later. Harry's shield spell materialized in front of the vampire a breath later.

Nothing happened.

They looked at the shimmery pile with a note next to it and then glanced at each other. "Can you tell what it is?" Harry asked, trusting Jasper's far superior vision.

"I think… it's a cloak," Jasper said, "Try levitating it."

Harry gave him an odd look but complied, "Wingardium Leviosa." The now confirmed cloak levitated a few feet from the ground without doing anything. It was a silvery grey cloak made of soft material, silk probably, that looked like it was made merely for decorative purposes. There was no way that flimsy-looking cloak could withstand a strong breeze. Jasper knew it couldn't, he'd felt the soft texture momentarily while he tore the wrappings.

Harry levitated the cloak near them and let it fall down in front of him, curious. Jasper blurred as he snatched the note and got back next to Harry in a split-second. Harry received the note, though he wanted to see to the cloak first, and opened it. In an unfamiliar loopy handwriting were the words: "Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well. A very happy holiday to you."

Harry immediately dived for the mysterious cloak of his father's and put it on. Jasper almost had a stroke when Harry's visible head levitated without a body underneath it. "H-H-Harry!?" Jasper gaped, "What the devil—"

"Huh? What's wrong Jasper?" Harry asked.

"Look down," Jasper managed to choke, "Just look down."

Harry did and almost jumped out of his own skin. He took the cloak off… and noticed that, thankfully, his very much intact body appeared before his eyes.

"Huh? What?" Harry sputtered. Then he put a hand bellow the silky cloak and it disappeared. He clenched his invisible hand hard enough that he felt his own nails digging to his palm. Still there.

Jasper, who'd been monitoring Harry's emotions and his body, noted the relief that came from Harry. "Harry?"

"Trust me?" Harry asked, holding his visible hand out. Jasper placed his hand on top of it and allowed Harry to place their hands beneath the piece of cloak. Jasper felt Harry's second hand touching his, though he couldn't see it. Ah, so that explained why Blaise's charms went off.

"So this is what set the alarms off," Jasper said.

"A cloak that makes things invisible," Harry smiled as he placed the cloak on his bed. The cloak was strange to the touch, like water woven into material. "No wonder the sender said to use it well."

Jasper frowned at the anonymous note. He had a good idea as to who sent it but the question was why?

"Wonder what dad got up to with this?" Harry asked with a wistful smile.

"Speaking of family heirlooms," Jasper gave Harry his own present.

Harry gawked at the ring Jasper got him. It was bronze with tsavorite garnets shaping a bronze P that resembled vines. The bronze P was the same bronze as the ring, only elevated to stand side-by-side to the dark-green gems. The gems around the P were small enough and rounded.

"What? This is, I—" Harry swallowed.

"It's your family ring," Jasper said, "Your father wore it. I reckoned you deserved to have it in your possession."

"I, thank you, I," Harry wrapped his arms around Jasper, gaining confidence when Jasper hugged him back, "But, how? I mean, I didn't see it in my trust fund, so I figured it was in the main vault."

"It wasn't," Jasper said, "Your father was wearing it when he died. The damned ministry kept it."

"Then how the bloody hell did you get it?" Harry asked.

"I have my ways," Jasper grinned, "It does help to be faster and stronger and unable to sleep at times, you know." And it helped even more when a certain Helga Hufflepuff, even if only in a badger's body, was willing to help you break in to the ministry of incompetent, hypocritical tossers.

Harry burrowed his head on Jasper's shoulder, "Thank you." Jasper took out a leather string, put one end inside the ring's hole, and then tied the string to Harry's neck. It was more noticeable than Blaise's pendant, but the string was long enough that Harry could hide it underneath his clothes without anyone noticing anything amiss.

"This last one," Jasper paced Harry a larger present, "Is from all of us."

"Us?" Harry carefully took out the wrappings.

"Us as in Blaise, Cynthia, Daphne, Morag, and me," Jasper said.

Harry's eyes competed with diner plates when he opened the long leather-bound book. It was a photo album of his parents! The animated photos showed Lily Evans and James Potter in different stages of their lives with their own friends. Harry stroked a picture of his father with a reverence he didn't know he had had. He looked to be about twelve or so in the picture, with three other boys around him. He recognized his father from the black crow's nest on top of his head and the round glasses over hazel eyes. Harry didn't know why many people said he resembled his father, he didn't resemble the pinnacle of confidence before him. His father managed to make even the glasses look cool instead of dorky like Harry did.

James Potter had a laidback air about him, his messy black hair, discarded robes, rolled up sleeves, and loosened tie didn't make him appear slovenly at all. Out of all the boys, he was the most comfortable in his own skin as he laughed with an elegant boy who wore an immaculate uniform minus the tie. A pudgy boy also kept with the dress code, though he was adjusting his collar or sleeve every few minutes while he talked. The more studious sandy-haired boy to his father's left was smiling but he seemed to be unsure about something, though the affection he had for the boys in the picture was genuine. Harry felt a pang of recognition at the boy's longing and resigned expression, recognizing the fear that his friendships would end at any moment.

So, this was his father and his friends.

Looking at the next page, he saw an awkward redhead of twelve or so. She resembled, to Harry's minor shock, Aunt Petunia a bit. She was tall for a girl her age, from the picture's proportion, she seemed to be taller than Goyle, the tallest Slytherin of their year. Her neck was a little too long and her lips were thin. But her chin wasn't as bony as Petunia's and she didn't appear to be anorexic, although she was quite gangly. She was smiling, authentic happiness rolling from her, so very different from Petunia's fake smiles and hidden miserable and ungrateful attitude. Standing next to her was a boy with greasy hair, pimples, and a hooked nose… wait a minute, was that Snape!?

Jasper smirked at Harry's shock, "Took us by surprise too."

"Then, wait, this is Snape?" Harry demanded. At Jasper's nod, "Then what the bloody hell's his problem with me!?"

"Apparently, him and your ma had a falling out in their fifth year," Jasper said. Every once in a while, he got the urge to punch the Potions Master over his treatment of Harry. So he had a problem with James Potter and Lily Evans, big deal. Jasper himself wanted to make Maria's undead life agonizing for everything she's done to him, but he never took out his anger at any other vampire she sired or any other of her family members, that would be underproductive and stupid.

Harry shook his head. 'You think you know someone.' But he smiled, drawing Jasper into a one-armed hug, his head resting on the vampire's shoulder, "You don't know how much this means to me."

Jasper smiled, returning the hug. "I think I have an idea."

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Fred and George laughed while Percy and Ron tried to rein in their burps. Within five minutes, Percy had stormed off to the library to find the antidote. He couldn't bear to be seen, even by his own family, to be doing something as undignified and disgusting as belching continuously. Too bad he wouldn't have much luck finding one, Belching Powder was a little something the twins had created themselves.

Ron, however, didn't have such scruples. There was a delicious eggnog to be eaten and the twins were hogging it for all they were worth.

"C'mon, burp, aren't brothers supposed, burp, to share?" Ron begged.

"Only when mum"

"Says so, Ronikins"

"Eggnog such as this"

"Is to be savored"

"Not gobbed up"

"Or distributed"

Ron scowled, and burped again, "Was it a, burp, admirer?"

"And if it was?" Fred asked with a smirk.

"I'll convince them, burp, not to like you, burp, and that I'll make a more, burp, likable person to admire, burp, especially since I'll appreciate their food!" Ron said. The way to his heart was most certainly through his stomach. He was the easiest of the brothers to please in that aspect.

Fred and George snickered at the thought of him figuring out who the sender was.

_Thanks for the help. I hope you both have a very happy Yule. HP_

One thing was for sure, if the whole Savior of the Wizarding World gig didn't work out, Harry could effortlessly live off his cooking. His eggnog far surpassed their mother's. Just don't let her know that.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Good? Bad? Somewhat medium?

Does everyone like the gang? I took this as another opportunity to explore the different personalities among them. Was the Christmas scene between Jasper and Harry too emotional and fluffy? Considering the types of gifts they got each other, I couldn't write them being blase about the whole thing. We'll see how you all like it.

Oh, and sorry if I made any mistakes with Hagrid's speech patterns. I'm horrible with writing dialects and accents, so I wasn't sure if I nailed his down despite re-reading his sections in the books many times.

Hope to hear what you all think.


	6. Quest for Gold and Benevolent Bastards

Uff! Long time no see, huh? So sorry about the delay... for those of you who haven't read this in Nihao My Lex, my grandmother who pretty much raised me since birth died. On top of it all, dad had a bloody clot in his chest arteries and so went through a coronary bypass surgery. Thankfully, it was preplanned and not an emergency, but still... It doesn't help that he's a bad patient, always wanting to get back on his feet and do something. Sigh.

Well, that's my sorry Real Life story.

Granted, that wasn't the only reason for the delay, but it was a good part of it. I committed a big blunder. My baby cousin, who's only eight, somehow managed to hoodwink me into watching the Twilight saga in a theater that was showing Twilight, New Moon, and Eclipse back to back. And I thought the books were sub-par...

Seriously, the only reason I finished this chapter was because I already started it before going to that torture chamber from hell. Never again. I had to purify myself with endless hours watching Battle Royale, Eyeshield 21, and Katekyoushi Hitman Reborn before I could hear the word vampire without cringing. The horror... Master Stoker must be rolling in his grave...

Anyway, I've screwed around with Jasper's past, hopefully no more so than Meyer did with her own creation, and came up with something a bit more believable. For the hardcore Jasper fans, you're welcome to refute the changes I've made.

~!#^&*()~!#$%&^(*)~!#%&^(_)+~!#$%^(*)

Jasper appreciated loyalty. It was a very honorable, and above all, essential to continued survival quality. When knee-deep in mud, starving, and expecting to get your head lopped off at a moment's vulnerability, it was good to know that the soldier next to you not only wasn't planning your imminent death but would also have your back. He'd taken that for granted as a human. Filled with patriotic self-righteousness and safe in the assumption that everyone else felt the same, he'd been ill-prepared for the moment he was turned and joined Maria's army of resentful mutineers in the making.

Abusing the newborns that weren't equipped with special abilities or anything in particular that would make them irreplaceable to the army wasn't the only nerve-wracking thing he'd endured. The newborns were easy to deal with compared to Jasper's fellow "officers." Those guys had one hand patting each others' backs in congratulations and another tucked behind their backs with a knife ready to strike at the first sign of a fuck up. All of them were turned without consent. All of them hated the war they previously had no part of, and frankly, wanted nothing to do with. All of them wanted Maria and her sisters dead, raped, humiliated, and forgotten.

The Jasper of the Southern Vampire Wars would have said something along the lines of "Forgiveness? What is this forgiveness you are speaking of? I don't believe I am familiar with that word. Mercy is also rather unfamiliar now that I think about it."

When Lucy and Nettie had rebelled against their sister, Jasper had smiled when those bitches finally gave him a good reason to tear them limb from limb. He hadn't felt as satisfied as he did when he killed the whore that sired him, however, that little revolt had allowed him to get closer to Maria.

What an arrogant fool. She though that he honestly believed she loved him. Him, the empath, the truth finder. It was as insulting as it was nauseating.

She'd been easy to fool, too. All it took was expanding her hubris and the blinders never went off. She never realized that it was an open secret among her army that Jasper was just waiting for the right moment and SLASH! The bitch is dead.

Last he'd heard, Willa had taken over Maria's territory, after properly disposing of competition of course. Jasper had taken one good look at the black woman he would have considered his inferior in another life and decided that a piece of land was not worth his life. The illusion mistress had enough patience to fill the sea and the motivation to have anyone responsible for her misery suffer a thousand hells. She hated anyone that ever owned a slave or condoned to slavery by omission. It was a wonder the southern parts of the USA still had humans.

Luckily for him, Peter had fallen in love with the then newborn Charlotte and his intervention had put Peter in his debt. A debt that had gotten Jasper out of the line of fire as soon as Maria's remains flew, forgotten, to the four winds.

After living with close enemies for decades, Jasper vowed to himself that he would never, ever, take loyalty for granted ever again. He'd even gone to check on his remaining family once. His father had died not long after learning of Jasper's death. His only brother got married and inherited the estate and the plantations. Jedediah had been ecstatic about that little tidbit. Oh, he'd been devastated when Jasper didn't return home, but everyone cries differently when there's money to receive. Of course, when the war was over and he actually had to _pay_ the help for their services, baby brother started singing a different tune over his new responsibilities. It didn't help that he lived with mother and she never let him forget about the Whitlock family's former glory.

Permelia had been married long before Jasper joined the army. It had saddened Jasper to see his sister with a man she didn't and could never love, silently suffering the indignities of his infidelities and repressing her own sexuality out of an unhealthy instruction that women who enjoyed sex were no better than prostitutes. A part of Jasper had wanted to go to her, tell her that he wasn't dead, not really, show her a way out… but how could he do that when he himself was depressed over his vampirism? No. He'd done enough damage when he'd been alive, pressuring Permelia to marry and honor the family name. The results were a depressed sister with no real friends in her corner, children she couldn't stand and who viewed her (almost correctly) as a controlling tyrant, and dashed hopes of a family that lost its importance.

He'd been a man of his time, Jasper could concede to that. It'd been a horrible time. A time of racism, sexism, and repression of all sorts. But that didn't excuse him for the damage he'd done, conditioning or no conditioning. His other two sisters had been able to get past that.

Hester might have been the youngest but she had been the wiliest of all the Whitlock siblings. Long accustomed to the imposed stigma of self-effacing and self-sacrifice that came with being born with a double X chromosome, Hester took advantage of the frailty everyone though she possessed to secure her own interests. She'd always known that, though her parents and brothers really did love her in their own way, the only one that would be looking out for her own self interests and only hers was Hester herself. Her own safety and desires were secondary to anything else by virtue of her being a woman.

It was no surprise when the little opportunist married her guileless, suggestible, and (most important of all) well off Yankee of a husband. If Jasper had been smart, he would have inspected his sister's loyalties instead of military news to gauge how well the war was going. Hester never supported or condemned the Confederation Army in public, she'd waited until the Union acquired the Mississippi River to very loudly claim her allegiance to the Union. That right there should have been a sign for Jasper to offer the Yankees his unconditional surrender. Too bad his father's enraged letter didn't reach him with that information before he was turned. So many things could have been different if only he'd gotten that missive immediately. It would have been impossible at the time, but hindsight was 20/20 and frustrated folks with what ifs.

His eldest sister remained a suffragist, she'd been disowned when he last saw her but that did not in any way deter her. She'd gone to New York and joined Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Susan Brownell Anthony's National Woman Suffrage Association. Fidelia never married, remained a proud spinster to her last happy days. She was never satisfied with small victories, believing that women will truly be equal when a daughter was held at the same value as a son. As soon as Jasper had heard of the Suffragettes' victory in 1920, he'd smiled and longed to cry. At 82, Fidelia had borne witness the fruits of the women's rights movement. It was a poignant moment. She was dying when her life began to ameliorate.

Even so, out of all his siblings, there was none he was more proud of than Fidelia. He regretted shunning her and her decisions. He regretted helping father pressure Permelia into becoming the perfect Southern Belle in response to Fidelia's beliefs, thus creating the irreparable wedge between the sisters. He regretted the petty rivalry he'd had with Jedediah over an inheritance that had come to mean nothing. He regretted ignoring Hester and thinking her a disloyal shrew for having self-preservation instincts.

Jasper supposed that the real curse behind vampirism wasn't the cannibalism but rather the memories. Even with all the memories that he'd lost as a newborn, he'd regained them back out of spite and diligence. They were his saving grace against his enslavement to Maria. But also, they were condemnations. It wasn't pleasant being on the other side of the ownership and it wasn't pleasant losing his rights. It'd been the wake-up call he and plenty other people didn't get until much later, and even then it had only been properly drilled into their skulls during the Civil Rights Movement.

He remembered when he'd had to whore himself to Maria just to keep his secure position as her second-in-command and lover to keep himself safe. He'd wanted nothing more than to vomit after the first time he'd forced himself to ejaculate inside her. No wonder Hester wanted to pick and choose her husband. No wonder Fidelia wanted nothing to do with marriage. No wonder Permelia had been terrified of her arranged marriage.

What had he done?

Jasper had been a loyal man by the 1860's definition of the word. He'd put country, honor, and god before anything else. Now, what he wanted most in the world was to be a loyal man by its true definition. Not to abstracts he had only vague ideas about but to people. To people that actually mattered and cared and loved him.

That was why, when faced with the prospect of smuggling a baby dragon from Hogwarts to Romania in order to keep gullible Hagrid out of trouble, Jasper hadn't hesitated to sign up on the new adventure.

So what if dragons were the most dangerous of creatures to beings that were highly flammable. Jasper wasn't letting his friends handle this alone.

~!$%^*&)(~!#%&^(*_~!#^*&)(_~!$^*)(_~!#$^(*_)~!#%*&)(_~$%&^*

Raoul Urquhart was not a recognizable public figure like the Minister of Magic. He wasn't even a visible Shadow King like Lucius Malfoy or Albus Dumbledore. He owned his own bar in Parallel Alley, home of the struggling muggleborns and squibs that had opted to stay in the oppressive Wizarding World rather than take their chances in the Muggle World. It was the wizarding underbelly, a bigger tragedy than Knockturn Alley one might say. So many of these individuals didn't end up with substandard salaries and degrading jobs because they were incompetent. Many of them were above-average wizards and witches with fair scores on their OWLs and NEWTs. However, fair scores weren't enough for the "wrong sort" to get the jobs their scores should enable them to acquire. The only way a halfblood was preferred over a pureblood was if the former had an Exceeds Expectations over the latter's Acceptable. If it was a muggleborn competing with a pureblood, the muggleborn had to have an Outstanding to the pureblood's Acceptable to even be considered.

Squibs were barely tolerated as is, some families that actually cared about their "ineffective" progeny bemoaned the fact that they couldn't kill the poor bugger out of mercy and spare 'em the pain of living with its disgrace and the world's prejudice.

Raoul had counseled many a squib to forget this world and earn an education in the Muggle World. In that world, at least, there were _laws_, actual _written _laws, against discrimination of any sort. Didn't mean that it didn't happen, muggles were just as prejudiced as the next wizard, but if there was evidence of discrimination occurring, the lawsuit would cost the offender too much to risk.

Many squibs and muggleborns had long since given up on wizards in general. It was thanks to Raoul that there was something resembling a network among the minorities; although it as mostly poor halfbloods with not connections, muggleborns, and squibs. There were half a dozen werewolves within the network, nothing much but at least it was expanding thanks to Lucas.

Some muggleborns came from middleclass families that could support their children after they've wasted years of schooling in a world that would never accept them. Some stayed with their families until they finished their vocational or university studies and got the jobs they've worked their arses for. Others got jobs mostly through their parents. Others had friends in really high places or had family members that owned companies.

Those were the lucky ones.

The ones who came from families with smaller pockets didn't have the luxury of going back to school or negotiating for a better job. Some slummed it at the Wizarding World, fighting tooth and nail for their meager means, living with resentment growing in the pit of their stomachs, and living under Raoul's powerful but limited protection. In that sense, there wasn't much difference to the living conditions between squibs and muggleborns.

The network Raoul had set up helped, but only so far. If a muggleborn or squib or the occasional halfblood needed legal help, a lawyer from the Muggle World would help out with the similar legal jargon. If someone was injured, plenty of muggleborns became doctors that would come and heal someone as much as they could for a generous discount. Whenever a plausible position opened in the Muggle World, the Insiders would set the word out to hopeful potentials.

Just last week, Ashlee McPherson got a post as a manager at an ice-cream shop. She was being paid double what she earned in her job as a clerk in Flourish and Blotts. Another muggleborn, Simone Burton, had pulled some strings to help Ashlee get employed at the shop her cousin had shares in.

If that was cronyism, well then how else could these kids fight against discrimination? You shut up and protect your own. That was the simple secret to survival.

The lads of Michael Merriweather's group were one of the few muggleborns and squibs that managed to find acceptable jobs in the muggle world while coming from families of low income (or being disowned sons). They'd joined the muggle military.

As Michael had so aptly said: "At this point, I have two choices: I can either end up in jail or in the army. I choose the army."

Raoul had wished them luck with free Firewhiskey for two days.

Britain was not a good place to be muggleborn or squib. Raoul himself had many things that kept him from getting a good job in the magical world, but he wouldn't return to the muggle world for personal reasons either.

There was only one solution left. Rather than serve Heaven, he'd reign in Hell.

That was why even Albus Dumbledore wouldn't disrespect Mr. Urquhart with tardiness or ignoring a summons.

Sitting in the old but clean bar, Dumbledore nervously noted the lack of children and patrons. Had he been anyone else, Albus would have been covered in cold sweat.

This was not good. At this hour, there would be children of overworked parents or children of prostitutes in the bar, drinking pumpkin juice with cauldron cakes and receiving an informal-only-because-there-was-no-classroom muggle education from the retired but alert Mrs. Glenna Hull.

The children were banned from the bar when something violent might happen.

Albus fingered his hidden portkey.

There were no patrons asking for liquid strength to get through the day or paying for meals. It was 12 in the afternoon, the time where most employees got their lunch break.

When the bar was empty in those circumstances, delicate information was involved.

Albus still remembered the day Walden McNair had called Raoul a mudblood. Raoul had calmly gestured Mrs. Hull to take the children for a walk and, once the children stopped eavesdropping, had Mr. McNair restrained and just as calmly cut off the vile man's tongue.

The Death Eater had learned fear then, when he was surrounded by too many mudbloods, all balls of resentment and hatred, just waiting for an excuse, any excuse to torture the murderous bastard to death. He never came back, or asked for his tongue back, realizing that Raoul letting him go hadn't been an act of soft mercy but rather a warning.

To the world outside the Alley, Raoul was another muggleborn bar owner of relative success. To Parallel Alley, Raoul was the Law.

Albus didn't fidget, but even he had to admit that McNair's preserved tongue nailed on the bar's wall was disturbing. It remained far away from the clean glasses hanging from the wooden rafters. Likewise, it never came close to the bottles stacked together by brew, quality, and alphabetized. The tongue lay there, not intruding upon the organized space it shared, but counseling the customer that the barista was not a man who suffered insults.

"You're a busy man and I have to pay my taxes so that the Ministry can squander my money on useless projects," Raoul said. He gave Albus a glass full of rum and drank his own shot.

"Yes," Albus said, "Perhaps commencing this meeting would be a wise investment of our time."

"Did you know the Dursley family abused Harry Potter?"

"I beg your pardon?" Albus hadn't spat out his drink because he'd had the foresight not to put it near his lips until Raoul said his piece.

"You heard me. Did you know your new student, someone under your protection while he attends your educational institution, was abused by his relatives before arriving at Hogwarts?"

Albus remained silent before he sighed, "Poppy."

Raoul didn't say a word.

"Is she certain?" Albus asked, a quiet desperation in his eyes.

"Malnourishment. Overused muscles. Low sugar count. Second degree burns on his hands from handing heavy metals near a hot object, say a stove. Better night sight than day sight. Clothes that are three sizes too big and ragged with age in spite of the relatives purchasing a new state-of-the-art toy for the cousin every week. Hogwarts letter, if you had bothered to check, addressed multiple times to the "Cupboard Under the Stairs." Neighboring children confirmed that cousin Dudley Dursley bullies everyone in the block but his special target is Harry Potter. Adults told that Harry Potter is a trouble maker and is currently attending St. Brutus' Institute for Criminal Boys. Harry Potter himself possesses a dangerously low trust and dependence of adult figures. He does not suffer from anorexia or bulimia either, rather he hoards food and eats anything filling that is in front of him, so the starvation was not self-imposed."

Albus' knuckles were white, his eyes arctic cold.

"You can either take the boy away from those beasts or I take those animals to the nearest Auror and feed them Veritaserum. Your choice," Raoul laced his fingers together and stared his old professor in the eye.

"You do realize what would happen if the media got a wind of this, don't you?"

"You're under the mistaken impression that I actually give a toss about muggles."

"Ah, but a negative view on muggles does indeed affect the muggleborn community."

Raoul snorted, "With all due respect, Professor, a little more public disdain isn't going to make much of a difference. For all the equal opportunity there is at your school, the rest of the world is still stuck in the dark ages."

"And what of those that have succeeded?"

"Great contacts, excellent forgery skills, and extensive etiquette lessons. Not too different from your own mother if I'm not mistaken. She took the secret of her heritage to the grave."

Albus nodded, though it pained him to agree.

"Raoul, I understand what's at stake but I assure you I did not place Harry with _them_ lightly."

"Are your reasons a good justification for the equivalent of placing Ariana with the muggles that essentially turned her into a squib?"

Albus flinched, his magic rising with his shame and rage but he controlled it. He deserved that.

"I need him to be with his blood relatives or his mother's sacrifice won't protect him as well as it should," Albus turned pleading eyes on the impassive man before him.

He would never say it was "For the Greater Good" to this man. The realities he saw daily made such a statement laughable.

"All you need is their blood? Then kill the filth and have the woman's blood placed in a jar. That should follow the rules of the ritual."

"Only living blood will work," Albus said. Life energy was a powerful tool against magic created by death.

"Then have the muggle authorities arrest the worms and have Harry and his cousin live together in a safe environment."

"Relatives are separated in foster systems."

"Stop acting as though you don't have a finger in that pie."

"Not as much as I would hope."

"Then you leave me no choice," Raoul said, "You have until the end of the school year to come up with an acceptable solution. If you do not have one I agree with, I will bring my last proposition. If you will not find it acceptable, I _will_go to the press and insure that those monsters are placed right next to the Lestranges."

"Raoul—"

"Do we understand one another?"

"You don't know—"

"You're right, I don't know and I don't care. I don't know how you can care about an abstract People when you could be helping a hurting child that is right in front of your nose."

Albus tensed at the raised voice. Only an idiot would make an enemy of the Parallel Alley response to the Chicago Daleys.

It was even more foolish when the man had the moral high ground.

Some part of Albus, the part that had Ariana imprinted evermore behind his retinas, was relieved for the solution. He hadn't wanted to confront his own criminal choices, but forced he could keep the blinders. For his own sake.

"I don't suppose I could convince you that young Malik would find it advantageous to have a Hogwarts education."

"You know my position. It is useless without a muggle one."

"Full ride scholarship."

"And the rest of my kids?"

~!#$%&^)(_~!#$&^(_)~!#$^*)(_~!#%*()_~!#+

By the time Draco Malfoy realized his bout of mumps had not been in fact natural, it was too late. Harry, Jasper, Daphne, Blaise, Morag and Cynthia had already successfully smuggled Norberta the Norwegian Ridgeback out of Hogwarts with no small help from the Weasley twins.

Charlie Weasley had been so proud to see his baby brothers cooperating with generous Slytherins. Daphne had left the Astronomy Tower with starry eyes.

Snakes did not rat out other snakes. Not even if said snakes had been in cahoots with mischievous lions.

Technically.

For the next three weeks, Snape kept giving the sextet these looks that could compete with a basilisk. The kids had to up their game in Potions just to prevent the man from docking more points from their grades. Morgana knew he took enough from invented slights and errors.

Blaise and Morag immediately complained to their very influential parents. Morag might have cared little for standard grading but she did not want to disappoint her father over something so petty. Blaise had made it clear to his year mates that his mother would hear of this and her reaction would not be pretty.

Jasper had to appreciate the irony of his current position.

Whatever Ilaria Zabini or Maximilian McDougal had said to their dour Professor had curbed his creative grading though the dark looks remained, more poisonous than ever.

Apparently, only his godson was allowed to tattle. Hypocrite.

Although the man kept his complaints to a minimum when Harry won the match against Ravenclaw before a single quaffle was thrown over a hoop.

Everything was as calm as a boarding school could be… even with the kids going to visit Fluffy every chance they got. Mostly to keep Daphne from stealing the pup for herself.

Aside from that, everything was normal. Hence why Jasper was so jumpy. It was too calm. Someone, and by someone he meant Quirell who still felt like two souls inhabiting one body and who still gave Harry migraines if they were ever in the same room, was going to do something sinister. It isn't paranoia if someone is out to get you.

Thankfully, Blaise and the girls hadn't laughed off his concern and merely created a barricade between the boys and Quirell by sitting in front of them and at their sides while Jasper and Harry where next to the door. Personally, Jasper would have felt better having the kids protected behind him but he appreciated the gesture for what it was.

Of course, when Hagrid off-handedly mentioned that some (_desperate, nothing to lose_) beast was killing the unicorns and feeding off their blood, alarm bells started ringing for the group. Harry in particular was worried that because the unicorns had been fed upon "vampire style" that Jasper would be the prime suspect out of prejudice. He needn't have worried, Flitwick, Sprout and Pomfrey had risen to Jasper's defense before Snape could utter an accusation.

Jasper was a vampire. Unicorn blood only gave more life force to the dying. Jasper was in perfect health for a childe and he was, unless if someone chose to scorch and decapitate him, immortal. In conclusion, unicorn blood was about as useful to Jasper as a solar-powered flashlight was to a desert-dweller.

Unfortunately, after that episode, Jasper was loath to tell the rest of his friends about his mandatory liquid dietary needs. Daphne, he knew, would be alright with it… more than alright with it really. She'd try to adopt him and cuddle him as soon as she figured it out. Morag was too rational to discriminate her friend. At most, she'd beg him to try out some (maybe harmless) experiments on him to sate her insatiable curiosity.

It was Cynthia and Blaise's reactions he wasn't too sure on. Cynthia had grown up in the muggle world, where vampires starred in gory horror stories that only ended quasi-happily if the monster was slayed. On the other hand, entering the magical world had changed her perception of many a subject. She was a big question mark in that respect.

Blaise, no matter how privately kind, had grown up viewing vampires as a real threat. From what Jasper had gleaned from his research, calling a Frenchman a Théophile was as insulting as calling any German a Gellert. Théophile Comeaux was a 15th century vampire that gave his race the same bad rep that Fenrir Greyback gave werewolves. Had the foul vampire not already had the victims' mothers utterly destroy him during the 18th century, most people would assume that Jasper had been turned by the man. Even now, when the authorities didn't know what vampire sired the unwilling or caused senseless destruction, irregardless of gender, it was called a Théophile.

Yeah, with _that_ kind of social history and conditioning, Jasper could understand why more than a few wizarding children would feel uneasy (read: terrified out of their wits) at the thought of being within arms' reach of a vampire.

Jasper resolved to ease his friends slowly to the idea while surviving secondary school.

Sigh. Alright. He was a remorseless murderer. He could admit that. He'd owned slaves and fought to keep them. He was a manipulative bastard on so many levels and he deserved to atone for the shit-load of crimes he'd done in human and vampiric lifetimes.

All the same. This was cruel and unusual.

Hence why he had to suck it up, grin and bear it. Women did it all the damned time… guess that's why they're the real powerful sex.

So there they were, in the Slytherin First Year Boys' empty dorm, working on their homework and possible future projects so that their GDPs wouldn't suffer if Quirell chose to do something stupid before exams.

Before Yule holidays, Morag had gotten Flint to give her the homework and essay topics the more rigid professors assigned. McGonagall, for example, had many years of teaching under her belt and had found a rhythm and a fool-proof lesson plan that hardly ever changed aside from a tweak here or there. The same could be said for Flitwick, Sprout, and Binns… although the latter was the most extreme example of repeating a syllabus anyone had ever seen.

Whenever they'd question her as to how she'd gotten Flint to fork over the papers without extracting a favor, Flint would get this hunted look on his face and his hands would twitch as though he was prepared to permanently silence Morag if it came down to it.

It was rather scary how much dirty laundry that girl found from simple observation.

Jasper was just glad she was on his side.

Harry sighed, flexing his cramped hand after he finished another Charms essay that would be assigned around May. He added it to the stack with a blue post-it.

It was hard doing yet-to-be-assigned homework while completing the regular ones for Snape and Sinistra and keeping up with Quidditch Practice. Thank Merlin Jasper had bullied him into getting a head start during Yule.

He wished he had thought to buy a fountain pen like Cynthia had. Her essays looked much neater than his by half with a much flowery calligraphy. The platinum bracelet with the crescent moon charms that Blaise had gotten her never came close to the ink. When asked how she did that, she'd just laughed and replied "with practice."

Apparently, before she got her Hogwarts letter, she'd been all set to attend Wolverhampton Girls' High School.

Morag, upon learning that Wolverhampton was a prestigious secondary school with only 108 seats available for prospective applicants, had given Cynthia the bitter news that, actually, she might have been better off going to Wolverhampton rather than taking her chances in Magical "I am so Prejudiced and Proud of It" Britain.

"What?" Cynthia whispered. She heard Morag's very logical, very maddening explanation. Her brain just refused to process it.

Morag nodded, guilt shining from her insomniac eyes. She regretted destroying the hope in her friend's grey eyes but it was better she hear it from a friend, with plenty of time to prepare for this seditious world, rather than get the nastiest shock of her life while recently graduated and hunting for employment.

Jasper's lips were pressed together tightly to the point that his mouth was a horizontal white line. Cynthia's despair washed over him, quiet but with a mounting buzz. The implications had yet to hit home but it was only a matter of time before the jerky ripples turned into turbulent waves of misery.

Harry's furious outrage, Blaise's cool disgust and Daphne's boiling wrath joined the symphony of emotions. Morag might have been quiet but the resigned fury bubbling beneath her indifferent veneer spoke louder than any words.

Jasper struggled to keep himself in check even as his own indignation urged him to rage on his friend's behalf. Hell that could be him, that _was_ him, the muggleborn.

The word felt like the shackle that it was. The political correctness hiding the rejection of the Other. At that moment, Jasper would have found mudblood the lesser insult, at least it wasn't hypocritical enough to pretend it wasn't a slur.

Cynthia's eyes watered, the salty taste filling Jasper's nostrils and he pushed down his useless emotions. What Cynthia needed was a shoulder and a plan to rectify her misinformed (criminally so) decision.

Daphne came to the rescue. She scooted closer to her friend and hugged her. Cynthia stood still, as though she hadn't felt the tactile comfort but Daphne held on. Soon, Cynthia's shoulders trembled, her sobs only audible to vampiric ears, a struggle to keep what was left of her dignity. Daphne said nothing, not even the ever popular shushing sounds, she just rubbed her back and let her get it out of her system.

Morag flinched and lowered her head in shame. She refused to look in Jasper's direction.

Blaise remained immobile, his mind swirling with problems he never had to think about before he befriended people outside his typical rich pureblood acquaintances.

Harry gripped Jasper's hand, worry and horror giving him a tight grip. Had Jasper been human, he would have needed to flex his hand. As it was, he held Harry's hand, giving his friend the contact he needed.

Harry reached with his free hand and touched Cynthia's shoulder and awkwardly rubbed it. Daphne shot him a proud, grateful look that warmed him.

"I'm sorry," Morag raspy whisper felt like a scream.

"No," Cynthia said. She pulled her tear-streaked face away from Daphne's shoulder, "I'm… glad you told me now. It's just, I mean. Fuck. I chose a bloody _illusion_ over the real deal and I just feel so damned stupid," she laughed, "Can't complain about future crappy jobs after this, eh?"

"Of course not," Blaise snapped, "If anyone is at fault it's whoever explained our world to you and your parents."

"Yeah," Harry said, "Even _Hagrid_ never mentioned any of this."

"I only know about it because the wife made a comment about it," from Morag's frown, it was easy to guess that the comment had not been pleasant.

Jasper didn't take away Cynthia's sadness, it was her right, but he did send her small tendrils of comfort. He felt her knowing appreciation along with everyone else's but now was not the time to fess up to something that had become an open secret.

Cynthia slowly uncoiled from Daphne's comforting arms, her arm hastily rubbing away her tears. She put on a straight face in spite of the puffy red eyes and the mild mucus running down her lips. Blaise gave her his handkerchief. Before she could clean herself up, Daphne took the cloth and gently wiped her face.

Cynthia appreciated it. No matter how mortifying it would normally be to be babied in front of her friends, it reminded her of her mother and she reveled in the familiar comfort.

"Is there anyway you can re-apply to Wolverhampton?" Jasper asked.

"After I told them I would be going to another school?" Cynthia said, "Even if they were amenable, there's almost no transfer opportunities and even then, it's only to really brilliant girls like Morag or Granger."

"And how are they going to know you aren't?" Harry asked, "I mean, they'd accepted you, so you're a prime candidate. Besides, you get better test results than some of the smartest students, how are they going to be able to tell?"

One of Cynthia's greatest strengths was her ability to see patterns and work with them. As a young child, while intelligent, she had not gotten jaw-dropping grades that have become the standard for prestigious schools. It wasn't so much that she was pressured by her parents to get into said prestigious schools, she was more gently coached that those schools would really help her in the future.

Cynthia had always been intelligent. It's just that above-average intelligence is not the same as genius with eidetic memory.

So, she chose the next best thing. Cheating. From 2nd to 3rd grade, she'd cheated her way into becoming one of the top 10 percent students of her primary school. By the 4th grade, though, her tactics had changed. She'd noticed that sometimes, tests were a little too repetitive, questions almost verbatim to the ones she got on her regular homework.

Figure out the pattern, less time wasted memorizing things that won't end up in the exam.

Without worrying about getting caught, Cynthia's new technique shot her up to the 5 percent of her grade.

It is always the lazy who come up with the most ingenious plans.

"Harry does have a point," Jasper said, "If Wolverhampton is as prestigious as you make it sound, chances are Granger was also accepted. And I'm willing to bet you two aren't the only ones that had to give it up for Hogwarts or another magical institution. Who's to say that someone in that school doesn't have an inkling that something strange is happening."

"For one or two students?" Cynthia deadpanned. Daphne tightened her hug.

"That gave up their chances at learning among the best of the best for an unknown? With students like Granger leaving, what do you think the school administration is going to do?" Morag said, "They'd be researching the competition."

Blaise caught on and smirked, "Yeah, someone must have put the pieces together. If that's the case I'm sure we can come up with an agreement of some sort."

Cynthia snorted, "Hate to break it to you but my parents don't have _that_ kind of money. They're dipping into my college fund just to make sure I can go here."

"What am I, chopped liver?" Harry said, "I could pay for it. My parents were loaded and the interest has only gone up in ten years."

"You could, with the family vault," Morag said without letting Cynthia get a word edgewise, "But your trust fund only has enough for seven years at Hogwarts and some extra cash for emergencies and luxuries."

Harry scowled. He hated being dependant by law to useless adults like the Dursleys. He hoped they never learned of the Potter vaults or else he'd lose all of his inheritance to those cockroaches.

"That's not—"

Daphne interrupted Cynthia, "My family's only a bit better than the Weasleys' financially speaking… although that could just be because the moms stopped at two instead of seven."

Morag nodded with a pensive frown, "Father might be sympathetic but it's one thing for his illegitimate, and therefore out of his control, daughter to befriend a muggleborns but for him to become said muggleborns' patron? He might not support Voldemort but he has important colleagues that are."

"Step-father number four is a former Death Eater," Blaise said, "But mamma should make him useful within the end of the school year. He's already past the year-mark, anyway."

Jasper twitched. He knew that Blaise's mother was a professional Black Widow, but to hear his friend talk about it so casually…

Hell, who was he to point fingers. Slaves were a fact of life for him before he got the metaphysical kick in the ass.

"I'm not a charity case, you know," Cynthia bit out.

"No, you're our friend," Blaise said, "Just like Jasper's our friend. And last I checked, friends help each other in any way they can when the shit hits the fan."

"…Blaise, I'm not the one that got into the secondary schooling version of Harvard," Jasper said.

"So?" Daphne said, "Best mates with three purebloods and the most famous kid in our generation won't do much for your chances in the future. Not unless there's a huge revolution before we graduate."

"What we need is an effective manner to finance Cynthia, Jasper, and maybe Harry's muggle education without losing wizarding privileges," Morag said.

"How? Harry can't access his vault until he's seventeen, fifteen if he can get a good barrister to argue his case as the last of a Noble House's line," Blaise said, "And the rest of us can't ask our parents either."

They sat in contemplative silence. Even Cynthia let go of her pride and conceded that she did not want to end up like many a poor wretch in Parallel Alley.

But she would pay them all back for their help. One way or another.

"The Stone!" Harry cried.

"The Stone?" Blaise gaped. Surely even Harry wouldn't have the stones to do _that_.

"What?" Harry said, leaning against Jasper for support, "We're not going to steal it, just borrow it for a bit. It'll be safer with us than with Quirell."

"We would require a lot of lead," Morag said, "We'll also need to take transfomogical weight differences into account."

"And a place to hide it," Jasper said, sold on the idea, especially if it gave him the excuse to kill Quirell before he tried anything.

"We could use Dymphana and Blaise's gifts to find the perfect hiding place," Daphne gestured to the platinum ring with a refined laurel motif on her left ring finger.

Morag's earrings of the same material as Daphne's ring were hidden behind perpetually messy and neglected black hair.

Blaise fingered the masculine chain around his neck for reassurance that there wasn't someone spying on them and their barmy and illegal plan.

Harry immediately began talking about transportation and maybe using Jasper's cottage as a temporary dumping space. Cynthia looked horrified and awed and pumped at the challenge. Jasper and Daphne smiled over their embraced friends. Morag was designing the most improbable and ingenious plan on a piece of paper that would later be burned.

Blaise sighed. It sucks to be the only sane one.

!~!#$%^*&(~!#$%*&(~!#$^(*)~!#$%*&(

Jacob was numb. He was aware of the blood, he was aware of the great hunk of metal digging into his arm, he was aware of the alarmingly shorter breaths his mom's unconscious body was producing, he was even aware of the screaming and sobbing and apologies and oaths of _never, ever, drinking again_. Even the distant sound of sirens couldn't crash through the wall of nothingness because nothing mattered anymore.

His mom was dying. She wouldn't make it. He knew it with the same certainty he knew that the sun would rise from the east everyday. The stench of death and decay and goodbye filled his nostrils even as he wanted to shut down all sensations.

Someone help, he mouthed, no sound coming from his throat, not even a whimper.

He didn't cry and he was ashamed. It was his fault his mom was bleeding, broken, and her lips were turning _blue_. If he hadn't gotten so sick she wouldn't have needed to go to the hospital. His fault.

_I'll do anything just help please help save my momma I'll do anything anything please just stop the blue her lips are not blue I'll do anything!_

"Anything?"

Jacob lurched. The raspy voice was close to his ear. Goosebumps bloomed from his back from the close resonance.

He turned around, his ten-year-old mind shrieking at the sight of the man's translucent body and robes. The coldly sympathetic zoisite green eyes glanced at his mother. Jacob could barely move. He shifted a bit, moved as much as his body and the heavy metal would let him until he was blocking his mom from the ghost as best as he could.

"You said you would be willing to do anything in order for your mother to live, is that right young man?"

Jacob stilled. He'd seen enough movies and series and read enough books to know that when some creep said _anything_ conveniently after someone said they'll do anything didn't bode well.

Sarah Black gasped, fighting for air and more precious seconds as the living, fighting so that the paramedics could save her and she wouldn't die and leave her babies and her Billy.

Jacob's apprehension left as desperation clawed its way up his throat.

"As I said, you would be willing to do anything for your mother's life?"

Jacob nodded, his speech taken from him. What else could he do? In the movies, it was always the guy who promised anything that got the brunt of the deal. But these guys, the deal-makers, they didn't lie. If he promised him his momma would live, she would. It was his fault momma couldn't breathe and bleed and if he hadn't been sick and if she hadn't protected him she'd be alright. It was his fault, he should be a man and take responsibility for his mistakes.

If Billy Black ever learned of Jacob's reasoning, he would forever curse himself for ever uttering such a useless platitude to his son.

The man made a sharp gesture, nothing mystical about it, but Jacob felt a current of something pass him. He turned and saw her, his momma, his most beautiful, coolest, strongest woman in the world, still as death but breathing, the bleeding stilled as if someone had hit the pause button.

"I put your mother under the stasis spell. After all, if she died during negotiations this would all be a moot point."

Jacob winced.

"Now, here's what I propose," the man said as though the whole matter was already resolved and he was just reiterating as a formality, "I will leave the stasis spell until those ridiculously slow muggle healers transport her to the medical facility. Likewise, when the healers do attend her, I will be casting other spells to insure her survival irrespective of whichever incompetent she is assigned to. In return, you will leave this world and champion another. Though you will not be the one to destroy the great evil in your new home, you will be a knight, if you will, of the one who will vanquish Voldemort."

Leave this world? Jacob suddenly received images of a world hidden in plain sight. A world with magic and myths and wonder and prejudice. Glancing at the ghost's knowing gaze, Jacob somehow know those images were not from his own imagination but real.

Leave momma? Leave daddy? Leave Rachel and Rebecca even though they were girly and nerdy and kinda mean and teased him all the time? Leave Quil and Embry?

His momma's blue lips. His daddy crying, and daddy never cried, over the loss of his wife. Rachel and Rebecca, withdrawn and teary. Rebecca, mascara-free since she was thirteen, wearing frumpy clothes and not caring about her appearance and that was wrong because she should care 'cause she wouldn't be Rebecca if she didn't care. Rachel letting her grades slip and her dream of going to college and leaving the Rez and making something out of herself all slipping through the grief.

Daddy all alone even among family 'cause his better half wasn't there.

"You could, of course, return to your home world… after you've accomplished your mission."

What was the damned mission? Jacob snarled.

"I will debrief you once you've accepted and accommodated yourself to your new world," he paused, letting it all sink in.

"One more thing: Claim you're amnesiac."

Jacob choked on a sob, his fingers found his mom's. He couldn't reach far enough to hug her. So he squeezed her free hand and said a broken "I love you."

The ghost looked pained, as though he understood but it was probably a trick of the light.

In the blink of an eye, Jacob disappeared.

Some part of Sarah, an instinctive maternal part that realized her cub was gone, screamed.

~!#$^*)(~!#$&^)(_~!#$&)(_~!#$%^*)_~!#$%^(*

Parallel Alley could be a daunting place for the unaccustomed. For one, the "alley" is actually the size of a small village. It was a place with seemingly no order and stalls competing with establishments lucky enough to have a roof over their heads made of bricks. Prostitutes walked and advertised as though they were luring customers for something as mundane as a new fast food chain. Bartering was done in quick loud voices, voices that elbowed away the stragglers and attempted the same for the competition. Everywhere there were people who looked like they wanted to pull out their wands or the brass knuckles and deal out some damage but for the grace of a stern god. That god's name is Raoul Urquhart.

Pureblood children of Malfoy's ilk would sometimes wander to the forbidden alley full of mudbloods and blood-traitors. They always strutted in, chins held high with the assumption that their parents forbid them from entering to prevent their precious angels – more like malicious little spawn that deserved a good smack every once in a while – from tainting themselves.

Jacob found himself surrounded by snotty and rich looking kids in dresses. As silly as the, admittedly masculine, dresses were, even Jacob's untrained eye could tell that those kids were wearing more money than the entire Rez' residents could ever scrounge up in a year.

"Awww," drawled a rat-faced boy, "Look at the poor ickle mudblood, all alone without his mummy."

"At least he knows to bow to his betters," another boy said.

"Poor baby, his mum doesn't love him enough to care for him."

"I can't believe they let his kind dress like _that_."

"How plebeian."

Jacob frowned. He was still kneeling as though he was in pain but there was no blood on him and he didn't feel the injury he was sure he had just a minute ago. Even his sickness was gone, his lungs free to let air enter unobstructed into his body and his head was clear, no longer burning with a high fever. He tried to regain his bearings. One, it looked like he was not in Kansas anymore. Hell, he probably wasn't anywhere near the good ole US of A. He could be wrong, but the posh accents sounded British and really, this was the suckiest way of visiting a foreign country ever. But, the most important fact his brain processed was fact number two, he might not have understood the first insult, but he did get the "his kind" and "betters" parts.

Growing up, Jacob had luckily not encountered any bigot who'd ever made him feel inferior over the color of his skin, his tribe's culture, or for being poor. Those three things were simple facts of life. Sure, it would be nice if he could afford to buy the newest video games that came out every month like Nick Church from Forks. But the fact that Nick could and Jacob couldn't didn't imply that Nick was superior to Jacob, no, it was a simple, if unfair, fact that never destroyed the equal footing both boys shared.

This… Jacob felt his blood boil. He lost his home, the last time he saw his momma she was still bleeding and he didn't know if the man kept his word, and now these racist idiots wanted a piece of him?

"AHHHH"

In Parallel Alley, Irwin McNair found out that he could still sing soprano.

Jacob took advantage of the boys' shock to slug one in the nose and tackled the one that made a crack about his mom.

"Barbarian!"

Jacob felt someone try to shove him off the boy but he didn't care. He elbowed the boy as hard as he could, feeling something, maybe the jaw or a tooth, cracking under his joint with satisfaction. He kicked out and managed to hit someone and crouched in preparation for another tackle. He snorted when he noticed that already three of the five boys were down, the pathetic little pansy-assed bastards.

Jacob grinned a feral smirk, enjoying the taste of fear he smelt from the twerps.

"Y-y-you, what did you do?" the boy with the deceptively wholesome good looks was ready to flee, "My father will hear of this! You mark my words, he will make sure filth like you won't pollute our good society."

"Like yer racist daddy would've "allowed" that anyway."

Jacob and the boys snapped their heads to the figure reclining on the wall. Slicked back hair left a boyish face free to scowl and glare without obstruction. Jacob blinked when he noticed the new guy wearing worn jeans and a green shirt, the most normal wardrobe he'd seen since he got here. The boy looked to be Jacob's age but his scowl made him look older, menacing.

The new guy left his perch and prowled towards the rich boys, looking like he'd take any excuse to gladly snap their necks and throw their rotting corpses to the lake.

The Ritchie Rich posse sat there frozen, all of a sudden their brains working overtime to tell their idiot vassals that this was a bad idea.

"It takes ten seconds to get out of this alley," the new guy said, "But, since roaches are supposed to be fast anyway, I'm giving you five."

"What did you call us?" the boy Jacob secretly dubbed as Dumbass said.

"One."

"Do you know what we are mudblood?"

"Two."

"Who do you think you are?"

"Three."

"Look what your friend did!"

"Four."

"My father will—"

Dumbass never got to finish. A jean clad leg rose up and kicked the robed idiot's stomach. Green Shirt got out of his sidekick stance to roundhouse the last guy standing when he tried to flee. Then Green Shirt grabbed the coward and smashed his head on the concrete at least five times. Jacob snapped into action and smashed his foot on the rising bully. Any idiot who talked shit about someone's mom deserved worse than a kick in the nadgers.

Green Shirt broke another guy's nose and had another bully down for the count by hitting his ear. His uppercut sent another of the Ritchie Rich brigade flying and falling over one of his buddies. Jacob was about to shout a warning when a coward tried to sneak up behind his savior, but Green Shirt never lost momentum. He turned the robe inside out, blinding and constricting the bully, before he then kicked his stomach and smashed his palm to the Idiot Prince's spine.

Green Shirt then spun and backhanded an oncoming enemy and grabbed him in a chokehold. He then rushed to a wall, bully and all, and crashed the pureblood's head on the bricks until he saw blood and his enemy was unconscious.

Oh yes, daddy would hear a lot of interesting things alright.

Green Shirt threw his quarry at the purebloods' feet. Jacob released his own prisoner with a punch. The remaining conscious boys huddled together, horror lingering like the most exquisite of aromas.

Green Shirt smirked, "Five." The boys flinched.

"Yer new to this place right? Bet this is the first time your useless trophy wife mommas ever brought you near here, huh. Well, guess what. Ye can strut around all ye want, flaunt about yer great-granddaddies being big so-and-sos, and show off yer money. But ye know what, in this here place, this place yer mommas don't want ye to come, we don't buy yer bullshit. Here, in this place of, what did ye call it? Oh, yeah. Place filled with mudbloods and blood-traitors, right, see, we know the truth about yer kind and we don't pretend to like it. Yer scum, all of ya pureblood fuckers. Yer parasites that suck on people's lives and hard-earned work just because ye deigned ta be born ta rich purebloods. Honestly? I can't wait until yer kind finally inbreeds 'ta extinction. 's the least you worms deserve. Now get the fuck outta here. Insects are not welcome."

One of the idiots looked like he wanted to say something stupid but his much smarter friend slapped a hand over his mouth and dragged him away. Jacob noticed more than one tear slip from swollen eyes. Obviously, Green Shirt had done more than hurt their bodies.

Once the last pureblood left the alley, Green Shirt grabbed Jacob's wrist, "C'mon."

"Wha—"

"Muggleborn, right?" he dragged him deeper into the alley amongst the chaos, "Yer pretty young, didja get yer Hogwarts letter and yer folks didn't take it well?"

"Hog-what? What're you talking about?"

Green Shirt narrowed his eyes, "American? Mate, ya might as well've stayed back west. At least there, muggleborns have rights."

"No-I well," Jacob then remembered the ghost's last words. He was wary to trust anything that man said but what else could he do?

"See, I don't remember anything. I mean, I know my name's Jacob Black, but that's all. I don't remember how I got here or even how I got to England or where I live or… anything."

Once his brain finally understood that he was far away from home, dimensions away, Jacob felt his breathing quicken and his eyes moistened. He wasn't crying, 'cause crying's for babies and he was fine he just wanted his momma and—

"Aw, shit," his companion cursed, "Hey, hey, c'mon, I didn't mean ta make ya cry. No, no, don't, aw, dammit, can I knock ya out? Or something? Shit, where's Lucas when ya need'im?"

Nonetheless, Green Shirt patted his back and made something resembling shushing noises. It was the worst comforting Jacob had ever received. The arms were too short and muscular to be his mother's, the innate roughness didn't even allow him to pretend it was his manly but gentle father. The twins always knew how to comfort him, even when they were bring mean, but that's 'cause they were girls and just knew what to do. Even Quil and Embry weren't as unintentionally insensitive… but he appreciated the human contact, needing an anchor to these unfamiliar, intimidating waters. It took him a while but eventually his breathing calmed. Survival instincts kicked in, shoving away his despair and telling him to use his energy for something useful, like finding food, water, shelter, and protection.

"Ok, see, yer all better now. C'mon, I'll take ya ta the geezer. If anyone can figure this out is him. 'K? Maybe some asshole misdirected an Obliviate and sent ye here ta hide the evidence."

Jacob didn't say anything, he let himself be lead to what looked like an old fashioned bar. The sign was worn with age but clean and clear, _The Jackal's Claw_ spelled out in black print over oak.

"By the way," said his companion, "My name's Eliza. Eliza Carpenter."

Huh?

"Um," Jacob wondered how to word this without offending his new friend, "I thought Eliza was a girl's name."

Eliza smirked, "It is."

Jacob stared. No matter how he looked at her, he couldn't find anything that was even remotely girly.

"Just don't let anyone outside the alley know," Eliza playfully tapped her lips in the shush gesture and opened the door, "Oi, old man! We got another stray here."

Raoul didn't look up from polishing a glass, "What else is new?" He made a mental note to prepare for another stuffy trophy wife coming in to "complain" about her brat(s) getting their arses handed right back at them. They tended to do that when there was blood on little Eliza's knuckles.

If those hussies actually deigned to teach their kids something resembling manners, courtesy and discipline, his kids wouldn't need to teach it to them the hard way.

Eliza and Jacob sat down in front of the bar and received two glasses of milk with a touch of vanilla extract. "Jacob doesn't remember nothing but his name and he's American."

"Anything, Eliza. Doesn't remember anything," Raoul pinched the bridge of his nose and mumbled something about irresponsible adults. "Can you remember your last name, son?"

Jacob nodded, "It's Black, sir. Jacob Black."

"Black?" Raoul asked. Sure, it was a common enough muggle name but all the same. "Any idea about your parents' names?"

Jacob looked down, sad. He was glad that he found an adult who was willing to help but if the ghost was telling the truth, and so far it looked like he was in another world altogether, then even if this kind man helped him, nothing would yield from his search.

Raoul was about to retract his insensitive question when Jacob said, "Billy. My dad's name is Billy. Mom's name is Sarah."

It was only years of experience that let Raoul keep his poker face. Billy Black? Not Regulus "Billy is my not-so-clever transparent undercover name" Black. Now that he look at the child, Jacob did have the subtly delicate features of the Black family, features that made handsome boys look aristocratic even on a bad facial day. He also looked like a kicked puppy, much like Regulus did when he sought his brother's attention but didn't receive it.

And who knew what happened to the younger Black heir all those years ago? Walburga Black had claimed until she was blue in the face that he had died a true Death Eater, fighting for pureblood supremacy until his last breath. Raoul had always thought it was a case of the lady doth protest too much and now he knew why. Not only had Regulus abandoned ship, he'd eloped with an American, maybe a muggleborn or someone close to the Muggle World, and had this little ankle-biter. No wonder the old battle-axe had taken this secret with her to the grave.

Good thing that bitch was already dead. Raoul would have hated to have to go through the trouble of breaking in to Grimmauld Place just to make sure that foul woman couldn't get her poisonous claws on her innocent grandson.

He stared at the kid. Yeah, amnesia his ass. Parents probably told him to lie and find someplace to stay. Jacob's clothes didn't look like something that came out of a designer brand priced store but they weren't rags either. His skin had a healthy glow and his body was scrawny only from age, nothing nefarious. Clearly Jacob was used to eating three meals a day. He didn't have the jumpiness of a street kid, the paranoia that someone was going to hurt him if he let his guard down. His scrapes and bruises, not counting the resent ones he'd acquired from another set of bigoted children, were from roughhousing and the typical childhood accidents kids got when they wanted to test gravity and trees. He also trusted adults to take care of things. Everything about the kid spoke of a healthy, maybe even loving, home life.

Something must've happened to the parents. Considering who his father probably was, Raoul wasn't surprised.

Raoul sighed. When he promised himself he'd make a great life for himself, come what may, he never imagined something like this mess falling to his lap.

~!#$%^(*_)~!#$&^)(_~!#$^(*)~!#$&^(*)

"Something curious has happened to our new champions' dimension, Salazar," Helga said.

Salazar tensed, "Oh?"

"Yes," Helga nodded, "One Isabella Swan's life force has lowered drastically. Poor dear won't live past her sixteenth birthday. Her mother will perish soon after as well."

"You don't say."

"Curiously enough, they are descendants of that Count you sent through the Veil."

Salazar kept silent.

"The Count that tortured the location of some safe havens out of muggleborn children and then set raids… pillaging, raping, and killing even more of ours in his wake."

"Jasper is a fine lad, Helga. You made the right call," Salazar said, "But someone needs to champion muggleborn rights exclusively or our world will never progress."

"True, but remember, Jasper might have the body of a little boy but he's really a man. Jacob is an actual little boy."

"As is Harry."

Helga nodded sadly.

"I might have been right about our safety," Salazar said, "I might have been right but my actions have brought more problems than solutions."

"No parent should ever have to bury a child, much less three and pieces of them at that."

They sat in companionable silence. Rowena and Godric had the good sense to let Helga lead the conversation instead of bulldozing into it as the eagle and the lion were wont to do.

"It's wrong of me," she said, "But I'm glad that foul bloodline will finally come to an end."

"He killed yours too, Helga. It means you're not a monster."

Helga smiled, "Don't forget. You need to debrief Jacob soon."

Salazar smirked, "Oh, I don't know. The boy's doing fine on his own. _I_ never fooled others into thinking I'm the last heir of another world's wealthy family… by accident at that."

~!$%*&)(_~!#$&)(_+~!#$*&_)+~!#$&)(_~!#$%*&)(

The school year went by so quickly that before the poor students knew it, it was exam time. Jasper walked around like a man prepared for the gallows. Not so much because he was nervous, no, his were a cakewalk to his adult mind, but every other kid and teen in the damned castle was convinced that if they failed their exams, they might as well forfeit their lives. Jasper hated exams. He didn't think he'd ever find something more nerve-wracking than Valentine's Day but he was, unfortunately, proven wrong.

It got to the point where he was glued to Cynthia and Morag's side. Their determination and insouciant attitude were a welcome distraction from the incessant terror. You'd think these kids were going to war or something.

Of course, the regular exams were nothing compared to the abject horror that Snape's induced. Even Cynthia was shaking in her pumps at the sight of the parchment. Morag remained as disinterested as ever, as though she were watching the exams happening to others instead of participating herself. Neville Longbottom had caused not one but three explosions during exam. One from his own potion, the other two from its residue flying into Pansy Parkinson and Vincent Crabbe's individual potions.

Naturally, Longbottom received a very sound Troll for his efforts. On the bright side, Parkinson and Crabbe had to retake the practical exam later, alone and with Snape giving them his full attention. Without Bulstrode and Malfoy fixing their mistakes, it was doubtful those two would get away with even a Dreadful.

Snape might play favorites but even his selective eye wasn't that blind.

Jasper wondered, if only for a moment, if Neville had staged the event on purpose.

Finally, Friday came not too soon and the Slytherin first years finished their last exam of the school year. Now if only some kids would stop fretting over their pending grades, Jasper would feel great.

Harry tapped his shoulder, "Now."

Jasper raised an eyebrow, "Now?"

Daphne nodded, "The profs _are_ going to be busy grading. Now's the best time."

"For the record, I think this is insane and my arm is twisted," Blaise said.

"Of course," Morag said, "More time for me to examine the Stone."

"Lemme get the gold first, then it's all yours," Cynthia said.

Daphne was carrying what had to be her own body weight in lead _and_ Dymphana. Blaise carried the rest in a feather-light, shrinkable trunk affectionately nicknamed "The Black Hole" by Cynthia and Harry.

Of course, when they opened the door to third floor corridor, they Slytherins got the shock of their lives seeing Fluffy napping at the sound of the conjured harp.

Jasper snarled when he scented Quirell in the room. That dirty little—

"Come on," Morag snarled, "If we hurry we can get the Stone before the thief."

Blaise, taken aback from Morag's uncharacteristic wrath, still felt the need to point out, "We _are_ thieves."

"For Cynthia and Jasper's Justice and my Research. It's justified."

Daphne cancelled the harp's magic and cooed at the awakening Fluffy. "Fluffy-wuffy, when the bad man that got past you gets out, can you hold him still? You can eat him if you want."

Fluffy purred and playfully butted her hand.

Jasper choked a laugh. Harry looked down at the endless fall they would have to take. He took out his wand and shouted, "Lumos Maximus." Inhuman shrieks caught their ears. Blaise quickly cast a stasis charm, keeping the light from extinguishing. Spirits, Harry loved charms.

"I'll jump first," Jasper said, "I'll catch you and we'll continue."

With Quirell plotting, Jasper didn't want to take any chances. Not that it would stop his friends from following him, but at least this way he'll be there to protect his kids.

"You sure?" Cynthia asked.

"He does have a stronger musculature than Blaise and Harry," Morag said, "Although it's debatable whether he has more brute strength than Daphne."

"Thanks!" Daphne beamed.

Dymphana snorted and jumped down. Daphne shrieked and followed her with Jasper jumping after her. He needn't have bothered. Daphne curled up into herself and rolled, landing in a crouch without even a single scratch. Jasper's inner child bristled. He hadn't been that sturdy as a child. Daphne was not human! He was sure of it.

Jasper heard Harry shout that he was coming in and caught his friend before he impacted on the ground. Like Daphne, Harry had been prepared to take the fall and roll with it. Jasper set him down and prepared for Morag. Then came Cynthia who, aside from having the wind knocked out of her from the impact between her body and Jasper's arms, was flushed with excitement. The Devil's Snare kept shrieking and didn't dare come near the kids. It took some coaxing but Blaise finally swallowed his apprehension and jumped down… Alright, it was more a case of Fluffy pushing him down the hole with his snout, but let's allow our favorite Zabini keep his pride, shall we?

Blaise glared at Jasper's smirk. The blond didn't say anything, just followed the rest to the next room.

The room was filled to the brim with mechanical buzzing sounds that came from metallic birds. Upon closer inspection, they weren't birds at all but keys with wings. There were six brooms in the middle of the room. Jasper didn't believe in coincidences. The Headmaster was an even bigger manipulative bastard than he gave him credit for. The vampire could admit, he too had played similar games with some of his soldiers when they needed motivation or they doubted the cause, but those had been grown men (at least of their era) who had willingly signed up to fight. Harry, Blaise, Morag, Daphne, and Cynthia were just little kids.

As he aged, there were some things Jasper found unforgivable. Involving children in conflicts they had no business being involved in was one of them.

"… what we need is an old-fashioned key," Cynthia said. "Do you see it?"

Jasper saw the key with the broken wing at the same time as Harry spotted it. Harry went for the brooms but Jasper stopped him, "Wait. The brooms might be enchanted. If we grab 'em, the key'll act like a snitch. We can't afford to waste time."

"What do you propose we do? Summon it?" Harry said.

"I knew we should have studied that charm," Morag grumbled.

Daphne raised her arm, elbow at the same height as her shoulder. Dymphana hopped on her arm, used it as a springboard, and snatched the slow key midair. She spat the key at her mistress' feet and groomed herself with a superior tilt to her chin.

"That works too," Cynthia said as she opened the door.

Harry groaned at the sight of the giant-sized chessboard and its players with the too pointy weapons.

"Even a blitz game will last ten minutes," Morag said, "That's too long if you take into account the time it would take an adult to finish the challenges. By the time we finish playing, the thief will be long gone."

Cynthia huffed, made quick eye contact with Harry before she pointed her wand at him, "Wingardium Leviosa."

With smooth control, Harry landed behind the white pieces without the statues going for their weapons.

Blaise gaped at Cynthia, who shrugged, "What? It's common sense!"

Between them, the sextet levitated each other until they were all on the other side of the room. Dymphana snorted at her silly humans and vampire and strutted the distance without a single sword being drawn. Jasper hated that damned feline.

Blaise opened the door and slowly stuck his head out, dreading the next challenge.

"Bugger."

There was a fallen troll with a bloody club a few feet away from it in the room.

Blaise quickly bound the troll with all the restricting spells he knew. Jasper grabbed him and dragged him along with the rest away from the danger zone.

They all gasped at the frozen fire that passed through them until they entered a small room with a table full of vials and a strip of parchment. Harry held it up so everyone could read it.

_**Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,**_

_**Two of us will help you, which ever you would find,**_

_**One among us seven will let you move ahead,**_

_**Another will transport the drinker back instead,**_

_**Two among our number hold only nettle wine,**_

_**Three of us are killers, waiting bidden in line.**_

_**Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,**_

_**To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:**_

_**First, however slyly the poison tries to hide**_

_**You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;**_

_**Second, different are those who stand at either end,**_

_**But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;**_

_**Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,**_

_**Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;**_

_**Fourth, the second left and the second on the right**_

_**Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight.**_

Morag grabbed the smallest bottle that was hiding behind the burgundy square one that contained nettle wine. "This one will take us forward and," she grabbed the medium sized purple bottle that had triple the amount of liquid as its opposite, "this one will take us back."

They all stared at her incredulously. Huh?

"It's an easy process of elimination," Morag said, "Frankly, I'm disappointed in the Professor. I was hoping he'd be more of a challenge."

Cynthia poked her in the cheek, "She's so lifelike."

Jasper looked at the meager portion the small bottle contained and frowned. At least this way he could confront Quirell without worrying about his friends but, "Morag, which ones have poison?"

"The rest of the round ones."

Harry grabbed one, gave the second to Morag and the third to Blaise.

Jasper tore two strips from his shirt, uncorked the square bottles, and stuffed the long pieces of cloth into their openings. He handed them to Daphne and Cynthia, "In case the thief comes near you."

"You want us to Molotov cocktail him!" Cynthia cried.

"That troll wasn't unconscious, it was dead. Whoever this guy is, he means business."

Harry grabbed the small bottle and uncorked it, "You guys stay here or go back. I'll get the Stone."

"Harry, wait!"

"What are you—"

"Don't do anything stupid, Potter!"

Harry didn't feel Jasper grabbing him while drank the potion but he did feel his friend hiss the closer they came to the black fire. Harry made a split second decision and crushed his lips to Jasper's, giving him some of the potion he hadn't swallowed.

Their friends' cries muffled the closer they got to the new room until there was nothing but silence.

The oval room was golden, not a gaudy golden but a softly elegant tone helped by the airy feel of the place and the columns near the walls. Harry and Jasper didn't take much stock of the lovely scenery. There, at the center of the room, was the same mirror that had shown Harry his parents and Jasper his dead family. Quirell was in front of that mirror and, what was worse, had been expecting them. Jasper snarled and got in front of Harry.

Even a non-empath could tell the man with the cold eyes was up to no good. The outright killing intent leaking from his every pore made Jasper bare his elongated fangs. Harry had been coiled up and ready to fight the second he recklessly decided to take the potion.

"Harry Potter… we've been expecting you," Quirell's eyes narrowed when they found Jasper's face, "But the mudblood is a surprise."

Jasper squeezed Harry's wrist to keep the boy from lunging the rogue professor.

Harry twitched the closer he came to the professor, his scar hurt something fierce and he didn't see the Stone anywhere. He used his voluminous school robes to hide his hands clenching on the poison's stopper, ready to uncork it at a moment's notice. Jasper approved of the action thoroughly.

"Of course, I shouldn't be surprised that you came here to stop me," Quirell said, all the while not even a hint of a stutter came out of his vocal cords.

The Weasley twins owed Blaise twenty galleons.

Whip fast, Quirell cast a _Bombarda_ in the boys' general direction. Harry ducked out of the way and Jasper dodged in the opposite direction. The residue of the bullet wind hex made them momentarily lose their balance. Ropes captured Jasper even as he straightened himself out. He screeched in pain as the ropes turned into a bluebell fire, harmful and paralyzing but not lethal.

Crap.

Harry whipped his wand at Quirell but the turbaned man smirked, "I wouldn't do that if I were you, Potter. It would only take a flick of my wrist and the mudblood loses his hands and feet." He paused dramatically. Harry clenched his teeth even as his hidden hand opened the stopper with his thumb. "Or should I say bloodsucker. Come now, Potter, don't be so surprised. I played an incompetent idiot, I'm not one."

For the first time in his life, Harry wanted with every fibber of his being to murder someone.

"What do you want," Harry stated, keeping one firm eye on Jasper and another on Quirell's hands.

"_Use the boy._"

Under other circumstances, Harry would've jumped. He didn't. His stone cold eyes never wavered from their scouting points.

Quirell's wand was pointing at Harry, "You heard my master, brat. Come. Tell me what you see in the mirror."

Fool. Now that he wasn't pointing at Jasper, Harry felt a little more secure in his next move.

Jasper hissed, his fangs leaking venom. He forced himself to calm down. The worst thing he could do right now was lose his cool. As much as it grated him to be the hostage when he was supposed to be the protector, Jasper didn't dwell on what ifs and instead focused on what he could do.

He pumped at Quirell's arrogance – no, not just his, that other soul's as well. He elevated it, slowly, counting the rising tide to Harry's steps until the vile man was drowning in his own sense of superiority and control he didn't notice he was blind to important small details.

He was a wreck over Harry's renewed confidence and wrath, but he left it alone. Keeping Quirell and the other creature supercilious to the point of stupidity was taking all of his control. He couldn't slip, it could mean Harry's life.

_Yeah, that's it bastard. You're the stronger one, you're in control. What can a little kid do to you? Come on, let your guard down. That's it, good boy. _

Harry looked into the mirror that had showed him his family. True to its powers, it didn't show his mum's bright smile or his dad's soft eyes. Right now, Harry's deepest desire was to see himself standing over the dead bastard and Jasper safe.

Harry's mirror self looked up from the mutilated carcass. He smirked at his real self, reached for his pocket and took out a deep red ruby. Only it was no ordinary ruby he was holding, it was the Stone! Mirror Harry winked and put the Stone back in his pocket. The real Harry felt an added weight in his own pocket.

"Well?"

"I see myself killing you," Harry splashed Quirell's face with the poison, some of it entering his mouth.

Quirell shrieked and the deep resonant voice from before was screaming at him to kill the boy.

Harry ran behind the mirror and pushed at it with all his might. The mirror, magical or not, still obeyed the laws of gravity and fell on Quirell.

Harry didn't check to see if he was dead. He ran towards Jasper and shouted, "_Finite Incantatem!_"

The ropes and the flames vanished. Jasper stumbled forward and barked, "Duck!"

Harry didn't ask questions. A sharp red light flew over his head and buzzed by Jasper when he dodged it.

Quirell was a broken, bleeding mess. His turban fell to the ground in a frumpy smudge of purple silk, revealing a grotesque head sticking out of the back of Quirell's skull.

Harry would've gagged if he wasn't feeling homicidal.

The face grimaced what could've passed for a smile with too may teeth to be friendly, "Harry Potter, we meet again."

"I'd ask who you are if I cared," Harry snarled. He felt tranquil in a way that had nothing at all to do with Jasper.

Quirell shuddered. Those green eyes all of a sudden resembled the one unconquerable curse that hadn't worked on the boy.

"Do you know who I am, impertinent brat! I am Lord Voldemort."

Jasper would have snorted if he wasn't too busy keeping the two-faced man on a hubris high. Harry's anger spiked, however, to a level that was nearing killing intent. Jasper growled. No way was this monster going to push Harry to kill. Jasper would slaughter him before that happened.

"See what I have become?" Voldemort said. "Mere shadow and vapour … I have form only when I can share another's body ... but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds … Unicorn blood has strengthened me, these past weeks … and when I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own—"

"Sorry," Harry smiled, the pointy grin reminded everyone a little too uncomfortably of Goblins, "But that won't happen. See, in order for the Stone to work, you need a body to manipulate it. No body, no working Stone, no new body."

"Eleven years old and you're already attempting murder?" Voldemort said, amused, "Slytherin has done wonders if even Dumbledore's Golden Boy can forget about his morals."

"Not Slytherin. You."

Jasper tensed from his spot near Quirell. As Harry said, without a body, Voldemort was no threat. He'd been moving closer to Quirell surreptitiously ever since Voldemort started talking. Voldemort had eyes only for Harry. Quirell was hanging on to life by a thread, his senses dulled with pain, the poison slowly killing him.

Apparently, Snape was a sadistic bastard who enjoyed the thought of thieves dying slow and agonizing deaths.

"You shouldn't have touched a hair on Jasper's head," Harry said. "In fact, this is your last warning. Stay away from my friends."

"And if I don't?"

"Diffindo."

Voldemort's bellow spurred Quirell into casting a shield but it was not fast enough to keep Jasper out. They'd forgotten all about the vampire he was so quiet. Their arrogance in thinking they could handle two little boys, albeit one a vampire and the other a miracle baby, had been their downfall.

Jasper pounced on Quirell and sank his fangs on his neck, moaning as fresh if tainted human blood filled his lips for the first time in too long. Quirell's shield evaporated and Harry shut Voldemort up by smashing the bottle with some lingering poison in his face. Glass dug into Harry's hand at the impact even as Voldemort's only physical manifestation received more damage. Jasper smelt Harry's blood and concentrated solely on draining Quirell.

Quirell's body began spasming. His jerky writhing different from the weak bucks intended to dislodge Jasper. It was erratic, like the nerves were reacting to stimulus with no mental command behind it. He was dying.

Black smoke sprang from Quirell's bald head, briefly turning its huge head in Harry's direction only for a stunner to dispel it. It returned into one unit and flew through the ceiling.

~!#$^(*)_~!#$*&_)~!#$&()~!#$&()

Cynthia wasn't ashamed to admit that she had retched when Harry and Jasper carried a dead Quirell from the other side of the black fire. Daphne's skin took a peaky green tinge. Morag, while not as sickened by the corpse as she should be, was still morbidly fascinated at how fast the body was decomposing, almost as though it had been dead for a long time instead of freshly slayed. None of them missed the parallel puncture marks on their former professor's neck or the blood on Jasper's lips.

Harry was still coming out of his rage, the stench of death and socially ingrained guilt overriding adrenaline and the primal need to survive. Jasper was trying to calm everyone down, delaying panic attacks as it sunk in that murder had no statute of limitations.

It was Blaise who took charge. Cadavers were nothing new to him. As much as his mother had tried to shield him from her profession, he had been exposed to the basics of husband slaying. He'd gotten involved when one of his bastard step-fathers had, when the wards to his old room gotten rusty, tried to kill Blaise in order to have a child with Ilaria that will inherit everything and then leave him free to dispose of the Black Widow. Needless to say, Ilaria Zabini had not been amused. Although the wards had been old, Ilaria never trusted any of her targets with her son, always keeping him at rooms' distance from them and shielded. As soon as the son-of-a-camel opened eight-year-old Blaise's room, Ilaria's personal alarms went off and she promptly slaughtered her mark.

It had been an unplanned murder. No prearranged setting to make the death look accidental. That had been Ilaria Zabini's first and, hopefully last, passionate murder.

Blaise remembered seeing his mother work although she had not let him participate. He was glad for that childhood scare. It would serve him well now.

Blaise took Cynthia and Daphne's bottles of wine and took out the cloths from the necks. He poured the alcohol over the corpse until it was drenched in it.

Jasper saw this and nodded, "'ve set the other room on fire." He took his cue from Blaise and opened the bottle that contained the potion that would let them go back. He gave it to Morag first, the least shocked out of all of them, and she gulped it down and force fed it to Daphne next. Cynthia and Harry took enough so that Jasper and Blaise wouldn't be stuck in here. Jasper drank his fill and Blaise took the last swing.

They all got to the left side of the room, right where the purple fire was. All were ready to run to the other side. On Jasper's signal, Blaise flicked his wand, "_Incendio!_"

The Slytherins never saw the body burn as they were too busy running.

They got to the other side, Dymphana waiting for her mistress and her friends with a bored look on her face.

They were all quiet.

Harry twitched his injured hand, "I hope I didn't accidentally poison myself."

The rest sucked in alarmed breaths.

Morag turned to Jasper, "I don't suppose you can simply suck out the venom instead of the blood?"

Jasper could've kissed her.

~!$&^(*~!#$&^(*_)~!#$%^*&(_)

To say that the half hour before the professors stormed into the invaded cellar was stressful would be akin to saying Voldemort was a bad man. For Jasper, everything was a blur as he painstakingly took out every shard of glass in Harry's left hand and then sucked out the remaining micro pieces of glass and the, thankfully, negligible amount of venom underneath his skin. It was a struggle to keep his fangs to himself but, being already full from feasting on that degenerate, he'd forced himself to pull away even when he'd swallowed small drops of blood that came with the venom.

Morag and Cynthia hadn't wasted any time as they used the Stone for its intended purpose. Gold after gold of different sizes entered The Black Hole as soon as the Stone changed the lead's genetic makeup. Every once in a while, Morag would pause to study the Stone, only for Cynthia to smack her and order her to keep going until they ran out of lead. Daphne, to their surprise, was skinning the dead troll. Apparently troll-hide, while not as valuable as dragon-hide, made for a pretty penny what with its great resistance to most mild magical attacks. She was methodically separating pieces away by size and placing them in plastic bags Blaise had places inside The Black Hole just in case.

While his friends were busy, Blaise was formulating a plan of action. They could all deal with expulsion: it might be for the best for Cynthia and Jasper or maybe they could go to either Salem or Beauxbatons, Daphne could also go to those two institutions since their rivalry with Hogwarts might help her application, only an idiot would turn away the Boy-Who-Lived, and Morag and himself had greater options thanks to their respective parental units and their influence. No, the problem wasn't expulsion. The bloody problem was if they were taken to court for killing their professor. Sure, Blaise, Cynthia, Daphne, and Morag hadn't been in the room, but they had helped Jasper and Harry get this far. Plus, if anyone else had gone through the fire, they would still have had to kill the madman. That made them all accomplices.

When the girls saw him rationalizing himself into a frenzy, they ordered him and Harry and Jasper to help out with the gold. Daphne joined them once she finished with the troll. She quickly set it on fire and then cleaned herself until even the stink of troll was out of her skin. Together, they managed to change all the lead into gold in record time.

Just in time for Dymphana to bite onto the Stone as soon as the last bar was in The Black Hole and run through the open door.

Jasper hissed. He hated that damned cat!

Daphne cried out and ran off behind her Fan-Fan with an enraged Morag and a panicked Blaise at her heels. Harry, still a bit woozy, nonetheless made a dash behind them with Jasper close-by in case he collapsed. Cynthia pocketed The Black Hole and ran at a slower pace.

The first years skidded to a halt when they reached the giant chess board with a game being played. It wasn't the game itself that shocked them, it was the players. Dumbledore was the Black King, a fitting role for the Light Side's Shadow King. McGonagall was the Left Rook. Sprout was the Right Tower. Flitwick was the Left Knight. Snape, in a telling move, was the Black Queen.

Dumbledore beamed at them, "Ah! My dear children. If you wouldn't mind waiting a few minutes? I do believe I only need two more moves for a checkmate."

He only needed the one.

~!#%^(*_)~!#$&^)(_~!#$&)(_~!#$&^)(_~!#$&^()~!#$&^()

Jasper had to, once again, eat his words in regards to the blasted feline.

The professors would have a hard time believing that the students had even thought about taking advantage of the Stone's properties if they had been too busy A) running away from Quirell and B) chasing after the stupid cat who decided the most important artifact in Alchemical history was her new chew toy.

"So, Miss Dymphana," said Dumbledore, giving the kneazle the proper respect he would give any other bipedal homosapien, "Then took the fallen Stone from the floor and then ran off with it. Professor Quirell tried to follow her but Messrs Potter and Whitlock distracted him long enough for Miss Dymphana to get to the other side of the fire, whereupon she was fed the potion to leave the Potions Challenge, is that right?"

Harry kept a blank face, nothing, not even his eyes, gave away a hint of emotion. He merely nodded in response while his friends chorused with yeses. As soon as his hand was clean of any toxins and bandaged, he had been the first one to be called upon to give his testimony and promptly omitted their real intentions towards the Stone – he gave a great cock and bull about how they all had gone to visit Fluffy and then, upon finding her asleep, tried to chase after the thief at Hogwarts. He briefly mentioned about the parasite known as Voldemort but forgot anything to do with Jasper's particular diet and why that was pertinent to the report.

Snape was no fool.

"And then, Mr. Potter?" he drawled, "What other illegal heroics did you perform?"

"If by illegal you mean roughing up the man that was trying to kill us, yes we did," Jasper said. He received the glare with grace. Snape was good, but he was trying to intimidate a little boy he hated out of association to his former rival's son. Epic. Fail.

"What do you mean by roughing up?" McGonagall asked, making a mental note to tease and then scold Severus for alienating his own snakes to the point that they disrespected him. For all that he claimed James was a bully, Severus was surpassing him.

"He wasn't expecting a bottle to the face," said Harry. Just not which bottle.

"So he wasn't," Dumbledore knew he was only getting a grain of the truth but he let it slide. He could read the mistrust in Harry and Jasper's eyes as well as the fear in all of the children's eyes. They'd had to kill Quirell to survive and now they were afraid of repercussions.

That was why when it looked like Severus was going to tighten up the interrogation, he received a blue reproachful glare. After all, considering some of the things he did, without being forced into a corner, the man had no room to throw stones.

"And then?" Filius encouraged.

"And then Harry and Jasper rushed through the fire, we gave them the antidote and we ran like the Kwn Awn were at our tails," Blaise finished. Had he been anyone but the son of the Black Widow, the Professors would have believed him. Unfortunately, his dishonest face was exactly like his mother's and so the experienced Order members recognized it before he opened his mouth.

"So he set himself on fire?" Snape said sarcastically. His cold black eyes distracted others from Dumbledore using Legilimency on Harry. The old man got as far as Harry splashing the poison in Quirell's face before Jasper subtly stepped in front of his best friend and grinned with his open teeth.

Dumbledore nodded, making it look as though he was processing what Blaise was saying. He got the message.

Meanwhile, "Fanatics," Blaise shrugged, "Who knows what they're willing to do?"

"Professors," Morag said, "You do have to admit, the fact that the person previously known as Quirell was waiting for Harry down there is quite alarming. Irregardless if the entity he was hosting was Voldemort, it still tried to kill us and was among us all year. Likewise, Harry always got migraines everytime that man was within vicinity. He even gave himself away during the first Quidditch match. Quite the security leak, wouldn't you say?"

At this, the professors felt their hackles raise at the offensive, especially one coming from the favorite daughter of a very influential man.

Jasper smirked.

"Aren't Hogwarts' wards supposed to be the best in the country. What happened?" Cynthia frowned.

"Oh, spirits, imagine what would have happened had he asked one of us to stay behind after classes?" Daphne gasped. It was a bit over the top, but it did its job. The professors all started shifting uncomfortably. Even Snape winced at the thought. It might have been for the brat's training and to figure out what the Dark Lord was up to, but it had still been a dangerous gambit to let that man near the students.

"Great. Does that mean more psychos are going to try to kill me?" Harry groaned, "What do I have to do, leave the country?"

At that, Albus Dumbledore froze. Even Snape stiffened at the political ramifications of the Boy-Who-Lived essentially telling the world he felt unsafe in British soil.

"Don't worry, Harry," Jasper patted his back, "If all else fails, we can transfer to Salem. I hear they also added a complete muggle education into the curriculum."

"You're just saying that because you want your turn at playing host," Blaise teased.

"So?" Cynthia said, "At least if I go there, I won't have to worry about being stuck in Parallel Alley with no prospects elsewhere."

"It is notoriously hard to get a working visa for muggleborns," Morag said, "Especially considering how many of them try to leave here for good."

Pomona Sprout had her hands interlaced in front of her mouth to hide her smirk. Filius Flitwick didn't bother to hide his "I told you so" frown. The other three were very uncomfortable with this conversation.

"Humans hosting spirits are very rare," the Herbology Professor said, "As you said, only an extreme fanatic would go through such a contract. As the interrogation is now over," she gave the Potions Master and her boss a very pointed look, "You should know that once a spirit ceases to possess its host, the host's body starts to die."

"The organs fail, the blood stops circulating, the—"

"They get the point, Severus," Flitwick said. The children must have gotten a good look at Quirell before they ran, at most Severus received a flinch or two from Greengrass and Moon. But it was a knowing flinch rather than a horrified one. Glancing at his colleague, Filius was willing to bet an entire year's worth of salary that Severus had said that to verify his suspicions.

"So it wouldn't be out of the norm for Quirell to kill himself rather than suffer a slow death," Jasper said.

McGonagall's lips tightened. Snape scowled. Dumbledore lost the twinkle in his eye.

Flitwick and Sprout just nodded. Had they been anything but Slytherins, Dumbledore would've let them off without even a slap to the wrist. After all, he wasn't hypocritical enough to punish children for falling to his machinations. It was not just the color of their ties, though, it was the unrepentant, unbending, self-preserving attitudes that made the old Headmaster feel the slight pangs of uneasiness. Minerva had disproved of the plan from the start and now that she was seeing the undesired fruit, Albus was most definitely going to hear a lot more opposition from his right hand woman.

Funny thing is, had this group been his godson's, Snape would've defended them with the ferocity of a mama bear. Heck, had none of them even had any sort of biological connection to the Potter family, Severus would've still protected his snakes out of sheer principle.

Had it not been unprofessional to so in front of students, Pomona would've slammed her fist over her idiot colleague's greasy head. Didn't the moron notice Harry's eyes growing distrustful and distant every second that passed? Didn't he notice the other children's?

No. They already were wary of him even before they entered the Headmaster's office.

Severus sneered at the Potter boy but inwardly shuddered when that green gaze, chilled with indifference, writing him off from the boy's mind. He might have looked like the bastard, but it was difficult to withstand his mother's eyes staring at him in contempt, finding him unworthy, Lily finding him unworthy.

He barely heard the rest of what was said. Pomona and Filius escorting the children out while Albus took the Stone and Minerva berated him. They were Lily's eyes only by color but the way they calculated someone, an adult someone's, worth all of a sudden reminded him of eyes he once found in the mirror. By the time he figured it out, Lily's boy wanted nothing to do with him.

~!#$&^)(~!#$&)(_~!$&(_)+~!$^*()_~!&*)_+

Albus stared at Raoul as though he was the one who'd gone senile. Raoul stared him down.

"Raoul, I know you are aware that Jasper Whitlock drained Quirinus Quirell dry."

Raoul smirked, "At least this way the rubbish will know to behave."

"They _used_ the Stone."

"Aren't they a little young for a midlife crisis?"

"Not for that, they used it to turn what had to be 100 tons of lead into gold."

Raoul barked a laugh, "Well, at least those kids know what's really important."

"Even so, wouldn't it be better if he had adult—"

"Harry wouldn't trust an adult, much less one employed by you after that stunt you pulled. And with good reason at that."

Albus sighed, "And if young Mister Whitlock decides that the Dursleys are a danger to Harry and takes matters to his own hands? He's a child, he doesn't know that even when punishing someone there are limits."

"Good riddance to bad rubbish, I say," Raoul said, "Besides, your Silver Boy isn't so innocent either. He didn't exactly follow the 79 rules of safe and sportsmanship dueling when his best friend was at wand point."

_It unleashed the killer within the boy._

Both men felt the tension of those unsaid words. Albus felt every bit of his years. If Voldemort had not kept the body alive, the mirror would've only ended his host's suffering sooner. Spirits what had he done? What had Slytherin turned him into?

"Even if he had been in Gryffindor or even in Hufflepuff, that boy would've still done his damndest to do the bastard in," Raoul said, "After all, his first friend was in danger, from an adult at that, the common monster that caused Harry's suffering. Trust me, the kid would've murdered anyone who tried that shit on his friends even before he was sorted into Slytherin."

"Speaking from experience?"

Raoul snorted.

"You didn't answer my question, Raoul. What would you do if it came to that?"

"Oh, come now Albus, don't insult me. You honestly don't think I didn't have some of my lads in the force investigate them."

"Self defense?"

"Amazing the things you find about a person once you start to dig."

~!#%&*()_~!#$&^)(_~!#$%*&)(~!#$&^()~!#$^*()_

Harry and Jasper pushed their carts over the magical platform. Harry had Jasper's hand in a punishing vice but the blond took it in stride. He knew. He knew how it felt, seeing their friends with their families. Blaise with his happily widowed mother. Cynthia's mother showering her daughter with hugs and kisses while her father smiled. Daphne cooing at her baby sis in between her mothers' bear hug.

It was a bittersweet feeling. Happiness for their friends battling with envy.

Morag had given them an understanding look before she, too, bid their group adieu and went, holding her younger sister's and her father's hands, to find her stepmother and older sister.

It wasn't that Harry and Morag were ashamed of letting their friends know that their family lives were not stellar.

It was an open secret that Madam McDougal hated her husband's children with other women and had trained her own daughter into despising them as well. Blaise, Cynthia, and Daphne had their ow suspicions about Harry's home life and were no doubt planning a way of getting him out.

It wasn't that. Harry and Morag were just ashamed of their own abysmal relatives and would rather not subject their friends to their unwanted presence.

Morag even went out of her way to pretend Isabelle McDougal never existed while at Hogwarts, no matter if the elder wanted to taunt or talk to her. All of a sudden, Isabelle got the urge to bond with her sister when it became obvious she had befriended the Potter heir.

Cynthia wondered how someone like Isabelle ended up in Ravenclaw. Harry wagered that the hat put her there because she was hungry for a particular knowledge, namely the formulaic one found in romance novels, and because there was nowhere else to put her. Daphne didn't care, she wanted to murder Isabelle for squandering her duties as an older sister.

Jasper smiled at where his mind went and sent a small ripple of affection to his friend. Harry's grip lightened even as his face became stony when his eyes found Vernon Dursley. Although it was a Vernon Dursley he wasn't familiar with. This version of the rotund man was sweating bullets, fear touching Harry's nose as he gazed at the man who looked like Dante's Ninth Circle of Hell would be preferable to his current predicament. That pleased Harry immensely.

Hence why the older gentleman with a very unconvincing friendly air and the ominous hand on Dursley's shoulder became Harry's hero.

"And there're the lads," the man's smile became genuine, only to turn demonic when speaking to Dursley, "I trust that, as a non-abusive adult, I can trust these two magical children to your care?"

Dursley looked like he wanted to oppose to that request, and the insinuation, very much but he swallowed his words and whimpered.

"Children are precious, don't you think so? Especially when their under the care of someone who is not family and has a dubious character. Why, I know many a folk who would be watching such a person like a flock of vultures just to make sure nothing happens to the poor lambs."

Dursley paled enough to rival vampires.

The man let go of Dursley, wiped his hand, turned to the boys and gave them a package, "I do hope you have a nice summer, lads. If you need any help purchasing school supplies, go to the _Jackal's Claw _in Parallel Alley and as for Raoul Urquhart."

With a final cheerful (read: a miasma of rage promising pain and despair) smile at Vernon Dursley, Raoul disappeared to the afternoon crowd at the station.

Coward's courage rising at the man's departure, Vernon was about to order the boy to leave the other freak and get to the car.

He was stopped dead in his tracks when the blond boy's previously blue eyes turned crimson and his open-mouthed leer showed very sharp teeth and elongated canines. Add the pale skin and this aura of death and even Vernon's uninspired mind went back to his childhood nightmares caused by Bela Lugosi's Dracula.

The coup de grace came from Harry, who Vernon, despite stating otherwise, always thought of as meek weak thanks to his and Petunia's efforts. There was nothing remotely meek about Harry's Gorgonian glare.

Harry tapped Jasper's hand and together they walked towards Dursley's company car.

"The 'Puffs have a better team than I thought," Harry said, ignoring the useless man he was unfortunately related to.

"Duh, anyone that's underestimated that much has got to be hiding something," Jasper helped his friend put their collective luggage in the trunk. Thankfully, Daphne had been more than happy to take Hedwig for the summer, provided they called Cynthia (who will then floo the others) at least once a day to let them know they were alright.

So, with Dursley looking like a man who's seen death itself and was no expecting to live long, the boys left King's Cross behind.

Harry, curiosity getting the best of him, opened the package and a bag of floo powder with instructions on how to use it and directions for public fireplaces met his eyes.

Harry grinned at Jasper and rested his head on his best friend's shoulder. Best. Summer. Ever.

~!#$&()_~!#$%*&)(~#$^*&)(_~!#$^(*)_~!#%^*()_

So, what do you think? Is it sub-par to the earlier chapters? I'm not all that convinced about the scene with the professors after they got the Stone back... but no matter how I rewrote it or planned it, it still wasn't satisfying. Could you guys give some constructive criticism in regards to this scene?

I was originally planning on Eliza being a sort of Hibari-esque character but then she went and turned into a Yuusuke... must be the YYH roots showing.

Eh well. All's well that ends well.

I wanted this team to get the Stone for their purposes instead of turning into altruistic little champions. Plus, I wanted to start nurturing little Harry's hidden badass. Honestly, I want to start writing him smashing idiots to the cement the second they insult his precious people.

If you'll notice, the only physical characteristics the girls have are Morag's black hair and Cynthia's grey eyes. And yet, you all know what the boys look like (yep, Louis Cordice is just too perfectly Blaise that it's useless to change something that works and gave me wet dreams). However, I didn't want to give the girls attributes that would violently overlap with their _Aiji _counterparts (even if Morag isn't in the main quartet in that 'verse). _Grass' _Daphne and _Aiji_'s Daphne are already overlapping in personality... oro. That's why I made Cynthia into a muggleborn instead of an almost squib from a privileged family and even changed her name.

Sooo, what I'm going for is, could you, my dear readers, give me suggestions as to what you think they should look like? Could you also do the same with Eliza and Raoul?

Thanks! I hope you liked this chapter!


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